


Talking it Out

by Amarthame



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Gender/Sexuality, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Awkward Conversations, Background Relationships, Dubcon or Noncon Moirallegiance, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Meteorstuck, Moirallegiance is Romantic, Pale Porn (Homestuck), Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quadrant Confusion, Realistic Depictions of Mental Illness, Retcon Timeline, Slow Burn, albino!Dave
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 99,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27873517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amarthame/pseuds/Amarthame
Summary: In Which Two Knights (One Mutantblood and One Alien), Finding Themselves In Varying States of Stress During a Long Voyage Through Paradox Space, Negotiate a Moirallegiance, With The Occasional Help Of An Auspistice And Questionable Advice From Friends. Includes Several Conversations That Could Be Construed As Awkward, At Least Two Which Could be Construed as Comedic, Nonchronological Storytelling, Quadrant Study, Abundant Pesterlogs, Juvenile Pale Overtures, Emotionally Graphic Situations, And At Least Seven Jokes Not Accessible to an Alternian Audience.Dave and Karkat's blossoming moirallegiance and the conversations that got them there.
Relationships: Dave Strider & Karkat Vantas & WV, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Dave Strider/WV, Karkat Vantas & WV
Comments: 63
Kudos: 97





	1. >Knights: Find ways to cope with the panwarping trauma of it all.

PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 2.8%

>Knights: Find ways to cope with the panwarping trauma of it all.

It started with movie night.

It was about a month into their new lives aboard the dusty meteor through the starless void, and they were finally beginning to wind down. The high-stakes energy of the game had followed them into their new home at first, driving them to prepare for what was to come with mad compulsion. Vriska, Karkat, and Rose dove into the challenges of preparing for the next session with vigor. This had turned out to be a short-lived dream. Soon, Kanaya joined Rose’s research and Terezi joined Vriska’s scheming, and what began as a group effort became a loose collection of personal projects. Karkat dubbed the whole thing an unfathomably deep well of moobeast shit and novel stupidity and loudly excused himself from the whole endeavor. In reality, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to focus on the next session, or much of anything else, in weeks. 

Dave had been the only one to keep his hands clean of the whole project from the start. He’d been spending some of his time in the common room, watching movies with Rose and not talking about their recent shared suicide attempt. The rest of the time, he’d spent off in a secret corner of the meteor. When Rose pressed him on it, it had turned out to be Can Town. That at least explained where the Mayor had gotten to, not that anyone but Dave had been paying attention. 

Movie night was a human activity that was a thing for a while. That means that it was something Dave and Rose had started doing, who had enticed Terezi and Kanaya to briefly join in. At first, it happened every night. Soon this broke down into unscheduled movie viewings at various times(of day? Whatever that was?), curated mainly by Dave Strider while the others worked, explored, and coped in their own ways. Vriska and Terezi spent a week in their ridiculous roleplay outfits. Rose and Kanaya covered the bloodstains in the lab with a large rug and Karkat yelled about wasting grist for ten seconds before disappearing into his block for days. Everyone else had too much other stuff in their pans to worry about it. The grey walls of the meteor were terribly oppressive, the vents echoing the dry hum of moving air. No honking in the night. Since the original big reunion, everyone had turned quiet and grim. Nobody had touched or even looked at a weapon in weeks.

And so, as the aura of numb shock settled in firmly over the cold base the last of the trolls had made their home, Karkat found himself finally coming out of his respiteblock. 

Somehow, sleeping had only made Karkat more tired. Without sopor slime, the day terrors could assault him in crisp, full-color glory. He had a bruise forming on his wrist where he’d hit in on a corner thrashing awake, and another where a horn in his pile had dug into his side all day. He tugged on his sleeve self-consciously to reassure himself that he was all covered up. This was miserable. He was miserable. Which would have been fine, if he could have just stayed in his block, miserable and alone, for the next two perigees. Unfortunately, he was hungry. 

When he arrived at the common room on his way to the kitchen, there was someone there. It turned out to only be Dave Strider, watching some kind of movie about humans. Something was crashing and burning on screen, some kind of airborne travelhull, but that didn’t do much to identify the film for Karkat. He had been hoping the common room would be empty, but this was probably the most preferable runner-up option. He hadn’t spent any real time with Dave before retreating into his pit of despair, seeing as he seemed like such a tool in the bits Karkat had seen of his session. Of everyone he could humiliate himself in front of in his unwashed, uncaring state, he gave the fewest fucks if it was Dave.

“What are you doing?” Karkat ground out when Dave looked up from the couch to look at him. 

“Movie night,” Dave said. “You want in?”

Karkat rolled his ganderbulbs at him. “Don’t just say that like it’s a thing.”

“It is too! Movie night is so a thing. Tonight’s film is the worst Die Hard movie. At least, out of the ones we still have.” He adjusted so he was kneeling on the couch, face Karkat on the other end of the room. His expression didn’t change the entire time, which was definitely his worst feature as far as Karkat was concerned. 

“It’s just you watching some human trash, Strider. That’s not a ‘movie night.’”

“Not if you come watch with me… Karkat. Damn it, I don’t know your last name, so I can’t be all cool about it.” Dave waggled his eyebrows, folding his arms on the top of the back of the couch.. “So what do you say?”

Karkat scowled, stomping off toward the kitchen. “I’m not joining your failed team bonding activity, Strider. I’m just here for some fucking sustenance.”

Dave shrugged. “Your loss, man. But, uh, I’ll basically be here all week if you change your mind.”

“Hah!” Karkat barked from the pantry, all misdirected spite. “God forbid you find somewhere else to fuck off to, Strider. Aren’t you just the bright red fucking cherry on the hot shit-coated vomit fucking sundae.” He could feel his head starting to hurt again, tension building around the base of his horns. He wasn’t sure how to make that go away, anymore, and the more time he spent in that gogforsaken pile, the worse it was getting.

(“Dude,” Dave replied, way too quiet for Karkat to pick up from the next room. “How can you eat after saying something like that?”)

“I guess since there’s nothing the fuck else to do other than shove my head up my own nook, I might as well just attend your ‘movie night!’ Is that what you want me to say?” Karkat hated the hysterical edge to his own voice, but he was used to hating the sound of his own voice by this point in his life. 

(“This is a lot of extra fucking intensity from being asked to watch a movie. Did I miss the part where I besmirched your maidenly honor or?”)

Karkat emerged back into the common room, several bags of sugared and salted troll snacks in his arms. He lurched to the couch in the heavy miasma of his own bad mood and dropped all the bags to the floor but one. He tore open the remaining bag like he had a grudge and started shoveling what looked like crickets into his face. 

Dave watched for a moment, half-entertained and half-nauseous. 

“Just start it,” Karkat grunted as if by way of response, mouth half-full. “I’ll pick up the plot as we go.”

Dave did as Karkat said, half-expecting him to take off after he finished inhaling his...food. Instead, he stuck around till the end, then demanded Dave start the movie over so he could better appreciate what was going on. When Dave wouldn’t do that, he argued with him about what movie to watch next, finally letting Dave talk him into Rush Hour. 

“Fine, nookface,” Karkat had said, “But I get to pick what we watch next time.”

Dave was surprised by how much Karkat’s spirits could be raised with a movie he’d somehow never seen before. Now that he was seeing Karkat’s face, alert and engaged, he realized how much shit he had looked like when he walked in. Not that that was a big shocker or anything. Everyone was kind of looking like shit those days.

>Dave: Consider Bruce Willis’s ruggedly handsome face.

“I guess I have to admit that Human Bruce Willis is objectively rather attractive,” Karkat said at one point halfway through the best Die Hard movie they had left, as though responding to a conversation in progress. “Though his handling of his quadrants in this version leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Uh, what?”

“You don’t think so?” Karkat asked casually, reaching down for another bag of grubsnacks. “Just fucking look at him, and I’m not even the same species.” 

“Dude, that’s pretty gay,” Dave said, stonefaced.

“Oh please, like you wouldn’t take him in two of two concupiscent quadrants.” Karkat waved his bag of snacks at the television to emphasize his point.

“Like, ironically, or…?”

“Shoosh, he’s talking.”

Dave just stared at him. In the dude’s defense, he did seem pretty tired, but this was still pretty hilarious. He tried to reconcile this lanky poofy-haired grump gay crushin’ on Bruce Willis with the shouty troll that had terrorized him and his friends. To his surprise, this was making a lot of sense, personality-wise. 

>Karkat: Meet the Mayor.

A few movie nights in, Dave decided it was time for Karkat to meet a ‘special someone,’ though by the tone of his voice, Karkat was sure that something was supposed to be ironic about the phrasing. He seemed sincere enough about the introduction itself, floating and gushing on their way over to a part of their home base that he hadn’t spent much time in. Dave was given to rants and rambles, but most of the time they were meaningless. Karkat didn’t understand the references, and Dave never wanted to explain. This was strange because, as far as Karkat could tell, he was being completely sincere.

“The Mayor is seriously the best, I can’t believe you haven’t been logging any bro time with him yet. No wonder you’re such a total Grinch, dude. All hum-bugging it and it’s not even anywhere near Christmas time. Or was that a Scrooge thing? Whatever. My point is, if there was a Christmas spirit, it would be the pure delightful adorableness in the Mayor’s precious heart.”

Karkat couldn’t help but be put off. What was he supposed to say to that? “I have no fucking idea what any of that means” 

What even was a “grinch?” Should Karkat be insulted? And why was Dave waxing poetic about some smelly little carapacian, anyway? Was this a human friendship thing? There was no way Dave was in some kind of quadrant with the little guy. That would be completely inexcusable. Not that any of them had much choice in the way of quadrant partners for the next three years, Karkat thought with a pang of misery. 

“Can you put your feet on the fucking floor, you condescending cape-wearing asshole?” Karkat went with instead. Sometimes it was easier to just be angry about something simple.

“Don’t be like that, dude. We’re here.”

They entered into a large, empty rectangle of a room, occupied only by a set of industrial tanks and pipes along the far wall, and filled with web upon web of methodical, colorful scribbling. Upon further observation, the scribbling gave order to the myriad of assorted cans that Karkat’s eyes had initially dismissed as trash. A banner hung from the pipes, proclaiming this land to be “Can Town.” From the look of it, there was room for growth.

The little carapacian, dressed in his “MayoR” sash, trotted over to Dave and greeted him with a friendly pat on the arm and a smile in his eyes. Karkat had a hard time getting over how dirty he always looked.

“There you are, dude! How’s things in town today?” Dave pulled the Mayor in close with one arm, giving the top of his head an affectionate pat. The Mayor relaxed into the touch. Karkat found himself looking away on instinct. 

“Dude, Karkat, come here. Let’s get you all formally introduced.”

When he looked back, Dave was behind the Mayor with both hands on his narrow shoulders. He was half again the carapacian’s height, and in that position the little guy was looking a little put-upon. Karkat didn’t blame him, with Dave’s vaguely inappropriate displays. Were humans really so depraved as to go around making their pale overtures in public around others? As if hearing Karkat’s thoughts, Dave leaned forward to put his chin down on the Mayor’s head. Was he actually nuzzling him?

“I’m still in the room, Strider,” Karkat reminded him uncomfortably. “Are you seriously just gonna…?” 

“What?” Dave asked obliviously, standing up straight again. His grasp of the Mayor’s shoulders looked secure, almost possessive. Some distant, spiteful part of his mind wondered if this was how he and Gamzee had looked together. Dave started patting the Mayor’s head again and Karkat felt his bloodpusher siezing. 

“What do you mean--” Karkat stopped himself. He doesn’t even have that quadrant, you idiot. Take your stupid feelings and put them the motherfuck away, you sad chute licker. “Nothing. It’s fucking nothing, you ignorant bulgehumper.” He took a step towards Dave and his Mayor ‘friend.’ “Uh… hello?”

Karkat was surprised at how the Mayor’s face lit up at that, suddenly cheerful in a way that unmistakably meant “Pleased to meet you” in the most literal and honest way. 

“This is Karkat,” Dave said helpfully, an anxious edge to his voice. “Karkat, this is the Mayor. Obviously. He’s the best, he’s like my best friend ever since shit went down. Nobody else will hang with him, but you’ll see, he’s the best.” 

Karkat couldn’t help but be entertained by the way Dave stumbled over his words when it came to the Mayor. He looked ‘the Mayor’ in the eyes. “It’s nice to meet you?” he ventured, raising an eyebrow at the whole situation.

The Mayor nodded a little, and it was objectively rather adorable. He pulled away from Dave a little, taking one of Dave’s hands and gesturing a little with the other hand, pointing. 

“What is he saying?” Karkat asked before he realized he knew the Mayor was saying anything.

“He says we’re gonna do a tour,” Dave said. His face was settled into a small, casual smile. If Karkat had known him longer, he might have recognized how strange it was for Dave to smile this naturally for this long. 

The Mayor pulled Dave towards Can Town proper, looking back and forth between him and Karkat as though to make sure they’re both following. He points to an arrangement of cans stacked into narrow towers a little taller than the Mayor himself. Nearby, a few wider, shorter stacks line what appear to be purple roads. 

“This is Downtown Can Town in all its under-construction glory! I helped with the stacking. Don’t touch, we still gotta alchemize some glue to stabilize the whole thing. Oh, that’s Can Town City Hall! It was one of the first municipal buildings the Mayor planned…” 

Dave narrated as the Mayor took them through the budding arts district, a suburban neighborhood, and a strangely familiar ‘military training ground’ that the Mayor seemed particularly excited to show him. 

“Aww, yeah, you made that all by yourself. That’s right, dude! Who’s the best Mayor? You are!” Dave patted the Mayor’s head and gave him a hug to punctuate his point, and Karkat just watched in a combination of amusement and nausea. 

The tour took longer than Karkat expected, despite being a relatively small area. Dave kept lapsing into construction stories or starting up again on praising the Mayor. Karkat couldn’t help but marvel how silly it was for a god tier time player to waste his… well, time on something so incredibly wigglerish. But then, they had all the time in the world to waste now. Karkat supposed that he didn’t strictly need to be an asshole about it. 

“Dude, isn’t it rad that the Mayor made that banner basically all by himself? I mean, I wrote the letters, but he made the lines dark and he even saved some green chalk to write it in even though he’s always eating it for some reason.” Dave squeezes the Mayor’s hand when he says that, and the Mayor looks at him with innocent eyes. “I keep trying to stop him.”

“This is what you’ve been doing?” Karkat finally asked. “Just chilling with the Mayor, making a fake wiggler town?” So much for not being an asshole.

Dave looked at him like it was a stupid question. “Yeah.” 

Karkat looked Dave in his stupid, garishly red god tier pajamas. He looked at his stupid shades and his dumb stoice face. He looked at the way he held the Mayor’s hand like a lifeline, standing among the cans of this testament to regression. He felt something squeeze in his thorax.

>Dave: Try to appreciate foreign films. 

“Uhhh, Karkat?”

“What?”

“Did you seriously pick a gay troll movie for our cool bros movie night?”

Karkat rolled his eyes and paused the movie on a rare unflattering shot of Troll Matthew McConaughey. He was in the middle of a particularly intense conversation with his shorter, scrawnier troll co-star when Dave had felt the need to speak up. They were in the common room, for god’s sake, someone could see.

“I seriously picked a troll move for our movie night, and that was all the words I understood out of that mess your deficient pan decided was a sentence.” 

“Yeah, but like… where’s the busty love interest? Isn’t this a chick flick?” 

“If you’re just going to be obnoxious, I’m pressing play.” 

Dave tried to give Karkat a miserable look at the prospect, but Karkat wasn’t picking up what he was putting down. The movie played for another fifteen minutes, until a particularly charged scene in what appeared to be some sort of space-age locker room full of armor and helmets. Space gladiators? Seriously? 

“Okay, now this is practically a setup for gay porn.”

“I wouldn’t be watching it with you if it was porn, you idiot. And I don’t get whatever reference you’re making.” Karkat wasn’t even looking at him, just watching the love story unfold on screen. 

“What reference?”

“That word you keep using to describe this cultural enrichment experience I am oh-so-graciously curating for you.”

There’s a moment when Dave finds himself quiet, and Karkat takes that moment to refocus on the film. Some pieces clicked into place for Dave, and he found himself staring at his alien friend again. He looked so fucking weird, with his uncanny valley eyes and his too-small ears. Did trolls seriously just not care about whether they liked guys or girls? Did they all just like… both? Like that was something normal? The notion was pushing something off-kilter in his brain, but it didn’t push quite far enough to get through to the next logical step in his train of thought. 

Then, Dave finally responded: “You really don’t know what ‘gay’ means?”

“Dave, please, this is one of the best pitch meet-cutes in cinema, you could at least pretend to pay attention. I don’t care about whatever stupid earth shit you’re going on about right now.”

“...Yeah okay. That’s fine.” 

As he settled back to keep watching the film, Dave found himself hoping Karkat wasn’t going to ask for clarification later on this one. 

>Karkat: Find a new way to cope.

Despite himself and despite how ridiculous it was, Karkat found himself returning to Can Town a few times in the coming weeks. He had spent so much time in his respiteblock already, and his pile was starting to scatter and spread to the corners of the room. He just hadn’t had the motivation to pick everything up off the floor and fix it up dense and cozy again. He hadn’t had the motivation for much of anything, but the Mayor didn’t have to know it, and neither did Dave. 

In Can Town, he felt like he was at his coolest and most collected. He hated himself a little for only being able to find his calm around these wigglers and their immature games. But at least nobody was giving him shit for yelling, so it was still preferable to socializing with Terezi or Vriska. And Kanaya, he was sort of avoiding, since he kept bogging her down with his stupid feelings over Trollian. That needed to stop. It was getting beyond inappropriate. 

When he arrived at Can Town one day for is usual shift drawing and stacking, Dave was already there. He usually was. He was on his knees near Downtown Can Town, the Mayor hunched over near him, apparently trying to manipulate some cardstock and tape.

“Hey,” Karkat greeted as he walked in. This earned a distracted “‘sup” from Dave, but the Mayor perked up. He peeled away from Dave and took Karkat by the hand, and before he knew it he was being led to a neighborhood in progress on the other side of the room. 

The Mayor put Karkat to work drawing a new road, communicating the goals of the project by pointing and emoting. He could gesture and blink his way to “Draw grey here” and “That line should be straighter” and an exasperated “Do better please.” When Karkat had started working with the Mayor, he had felt like he was waiting for the punchline of some elaborate joke. As he got to know the Mayor and his vision, however, Karkat found he didn’t want to let him down. Meeting his standards proved more difficult than initially expected, because the Mayor kept having to stop him and show him how to do things correctly. 

Karkat grew absorbed in his task, and time seemed to pass with the Mayor by his side, assisting and correcting. There was something soothing about being bad at something stupid. Eventually, Dave appeared as if out of nowhere.

“I finished the Hella Jeff Memorial Pizza Hut,” he shared with his specific brand of subdued excitement. “Come check it out!” He grabbed the Mayor’s hand and pulled him to his feet with a little too much energy, and then the Mayor was jogging to keep up with Dave across the room. Something about the image rubbed Karkat the wrong way. Like an overzealous highblood with no regard for his lowblood quadrantmate’s feelings. Remind you of anyone? He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He was definitely reading too many romance novels, and that was all there was to say on the subject.

“Dude, Karkat, you too. You’re gonna love this.”

He took careful steps down the streets of Can Town toward Dave. Karkat watched him, still clutching the Mayor’s hand, carefully standing in an empty spot in the densest part of the miniature city. He opened his mouth to say something, but the look on the Mayor’s face shut him up. If he didn’t know any better, he’d guess that the carapacian had some kind of telepathic psionic ability. He tilted his head and pinched together his eyebrows, glancing from Dave to Karkat, and without a shred of doubt Karkat could tell he meant “He means well.”

Karkat’s eyes slid from the Mayor down to where Dave had crouched down to fiddle with paper and tape. There was a paper drawing partly stuck to a can of Tab, and Dave was pressing the tape down over and over when it kept coming loose. There was something a little unhinged about the gesture. That was when it first struck Karkat that Dave might have actually had an even looser grip on his own pan than Karkat had on his.

>Dave: Take part in the troll disease called friendship. 

Dave was floating back from third-wheel time on the Lalonde and Maryam Show and planning a pit stop in the kitchen on the way to his room when he saw a troll in the common room. It was weird that the meteor was basically a city, and everyone still ended up back at this common room. Or maybe it wasn’t, since it was so close to the only working kitchen he knew about. So far. He glided through the common room, glancing from behind his shades at the tuft of troll hair and horns visible over the couch. 

Of course it was Karkat. 

He was hunched over, drawn in on himself, and apparently shaking. He clearly hadn’t noticed Dave. What’s more, he was muttering to himself rather loudly through gritted pointy teeth. 

(“...YOU ...EGOMANIACAL...TYRANT. TAKE YOUR... NARCISSISTIC SCHTICK AND…”) 

He shook as he angrily typed out every capital letter of his tirade, scowl twisting his face so deeply Dave found himself staring as he floated past. If he’d known what to look for, he might have noticed that Karkat had been crying. His shout-whispers only paused to await what were surely responses.

(“I DON’T CARE WHAT HE TELLS YOU, YOU SADISTIC BITCH! I NEED TO TALK TO HIM!”)

Karkat’s words devolved into a sort of rumbling snarl whose source Dave, briefly, could not identify. Feeling awkward but not knowing how to proceed, Dave busied himself looking through the pantry.

“No NO SERKET DON’T YOU DARE!” Karkat yelled at an audible, rage-rant volume,springing to his feet. “MY QUADRANTS ARE NOT ANY BULGEKNOTTING BUSINESS OF YOURS YOU SANCTIMONIOUS EARFUCKER!” He punctuated himself by throwing his palmhusk into the far corner of the couch, where it bounced off and clattered to the floor. 

The increase in volume was enough to get Dave out to investigate. He wasn’t about to horn in on a private shitstorm between trolls (especially anything to do with their troll quadrants), but Karkat’s voice sounded off from his usual energy. And he was just yelling at himself alone in the common room, for all he knew, although Dave had no way of knowing if that was normal for him. 

In any case, they were friends now. Friends help friends deal with Vriska Serket. 

Dave let himself audibly drop the two inches to the floor as he re-entered the common room, earning himself the pleasure of a spectacular startle response from Karkat. Karkat jumped and froze in an off-balance defensive position, eyes wide, claws flexed, lips baring teeth. The four seconds Dave stared off with him before Karkat seemed to understand who he was were admittedly pretty scary.

“You okay, bro?” Dave asked as nonchalantly as he could. 

“SHE BLOCKED ME, DAVE!” Karkat yelled at him, voice whiny yet rumbling on its edges. “SHE ORDERED GAMZEE TO STOP TROLLING ME, AND THAT TYRANNICAL HOMUNCULUS OF SADISM AND BILE IS ACTING LIKE SHE’S DOING ME SOME KIND OF FAVOR!” His fists clenched and unclenched as he gesticulated erratically, face settling into a toothy scowl as his chest heaved with angry breath. With the horns poking out of his hair, Karkat looked like a cartoon bull preparing to charge. 

Dave’s eyebrows were going up. He took a breath, finding his chill in the face of this fresh chaos. He stared at Karkat. The irate and dangerous troll on the other side of the couch from him was seething, and he didn’t seem like he was done yelling. Dave wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say in this type of situation, honestly. 

“I’m gonna go ahead and say, I don’t think spidertroll has ever done anyone any favors.”

Karkat’s scowl deepened and for a moment, Dave thought he’d said the wrong thing. Suddenly, unexpectedly, Karkat brought his clenched fists to his forehead in a shaky fit of frustration. He let out a loud, wordless grunt and collapsed into a seated position on the couch, head in his hands. This was something Dave could work with. He walked over to the couch and seated himself on the opposite end of the couch, face blank as a river stone. He looked at Karkat, inscrutable.

Karkat glanced up from his hands, and there was definitely moisture there. “You can go now, Strider.”

“Nope.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“It’s in the bro code, dude. I think? It should be. ‘Bros don’t let bros throw huge self-destructive shitfits over spidertroll.’”

Karkat brought his knees in. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t need a new moirail.”

“I do not know what that is,” Dave returned coolly. “This is just a human friend thing.”

There was silence for a moment as Karkat stared from under his bristly mop of hair at Dave’s tinted glasses. Dave stared back, hoping that Karkat wouldn’t notice the pink he could feel tingeing his ears in response to the emotional vulnerability of the moment. It was like some sort of game of friendship chicken, wherein they both had to be all-in for neither of them to lose face.

“She’s just such a spectacular bitch,” Karkat finally ground out, sounding simultaneously infuriated and defeated. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do about her. I’m supposed to be the fucking leader, and she’s not even letting me be the leader of my own fucking quadrants. I know I fucked up with Gamzee, but that’s my fuck-up to fix. I’m supposed to clean up my own fucking mess. If I can’t… What if he just fucking... “ Karkat doubled over. He was shaking again. 

Dave looked on helplessly. He couldn’t even save Karkat the embarrassment by looking away as he broke down right there on the couch. He’d insisted he’d stay, but in actual fact, he had no idea what he was doing there. He didn’t know Gamzee beyond his murder record, and he didn’t even know Vriska as well as that. Karkat had this whole history that Dave definitely had no part of. 

“Sounds rough, buddy,” Dave finally said to fill the awkward silence. 

When Karkat raised his head to shoot him a familiar glare for his flippant bullshit, he was almost glad. 

“Dude, sorry I don’t get your troll shit,” Dave said. “But I get that you’re flipping your shit harder than usual, and Serket sucks, so like.”

“I just wish she would fuck off to the other end of the meteor and leave me the fuck alone,” Karkat interjected. “I don’t even fucking care if she takes Gamzee with her, our whole thing is done, but I still--” he cut himself off. “I just want to talk to him. Over Trollian is fine. Is that such a big fucking deal?”

“Honestly?”

“It wasn’t an actual question, you bulgehumping assclown,” Karkat snapped at him. “None of this is an actual fucking question! I wouldn’t know the first fucking thing I’m supposed to do about Serket! She’s a fucking universal constant of aggravation and personal sabotage.”

Dave nodded, letting Karkat get it out. He went on for a while, mostly talking about Vriska. He talked a little about Gamzee, and Dave didn’t like the haunted look that crossed Karkat’s face when he did. To be fair, Dave couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to have one of your good friends go murderclown on you. 

They sat for a while in a tense, vulnerable silence that Dave could neither understand nor appreciate. It seemed to help Karkat, though. His eyes were looking dryer and his face was starting to take on that hungover vibe that came after too many emotions spewed out of it. He looked so much smaller than he had earlier, claws ready and snarling. Dave found himself watching Karkat’s pointy, carnivorous teeth when he opened his mouth.

“I just want to go back to my block,” Karkat said miserably. “Can we please just pretend this didn’t happen the next time we talk?”

“Uh, if that’s what you want,” Dave agreed, a little too fast. He kicked himself. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to give emotional support. “Do you, like, want to watch a movie?”

Karkat shook his head gently, standing up from the couch. “I’m getting a headache and I need to bury it in my pile.”

“Sure, bro. I’ll see you in Can Town tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Karkat hesitated. “Strider?”

Something about the way Karkat said it made Dave’s stomach do a nervous flip. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. But we’re not doing anything like this ever again.”

Dave opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but Karkat was already leaving the room and walking briskly down the hall. 

>==>

PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 5.8%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There aren't a lot of things that I know, but I know this: 
> 
> Moirallegiance is the neatest, most romantic idea to come out of Homestuck.
> 
> Mental illness doesn't look pretty in real life.
> 
> Good relationships are built on awkward conversations.
> 
> Let's see how far we get with that. 
> 
> Chapter two's written, expect it soon. Rating, tags, and warnings may change. 
> 
> If you're still reading this and you think you'd be a good beta (or even a cowriter!), get in touch and let's talk.


	2. >Karkat: Navigate the human emotion called friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for potentially off-putting depictions of mental illness, internalized homophobia, etc. Everything said by characters goes through the filter of "traumatized teen" and is not meant to come from a place of wisdom.
> 
> The Pesterlogs are not color-coded. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Like I said last time, if anyone likes beta-reading or co-writing, they should get in touch.
> 
> Next chapter's written, will post soon.

PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 7.7%

>Karkat: Navigate the human emotion called friendship.

It was quiet in Can Town. The vents breathed softly and cans clinked as they were stacked. The soft sounds of conversation were cut with bouts of focused silence. It got like that sometimes, when they were working on something delicate. The Mayor was taking a nap in the corner on a clean, new cushion they’d recently alchemized for him. It seemed like it might be a nice gesture to finish the dusting and reassembly project they’d been working on. 

Karkat was finding the time he spent here soothing. There was something incredibly satisfying about working together on something and watching the Mayor approve of the results. There was even something satisfying about watching Dave approve, in his infuriatingly restrained way. Karkat felt like he was doing something productive, and even though it was basically a stupid game that was distracting him from the weight of the situation around him, he still found himself participating. If Vriska and Terezi could waste all their time in courtroom roleplay, he could waste all his time however he damn well pleased. 

“What do you think Terezi and Vriska’re up to?” Karkat asked idly at one point. 

Dave stacked a can on one of the central towers. “If you wanna talk to Terezi, just talk to Terezi, dude.”

“I was just making conversation,” Karkat grumbled, stacking on the outer edge of the district. “We aren’t exactly swimming in conversation topics, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“So you thought you’d ask for Terezi gossip. Makes sense.”

“I was just making conversation,” Karkat repeated.

“I haven’t talked to her in like a week, anyway. I think her and Vriska might be on a different sleep schedule than me or something.”

“Whatever.”

They stacked cans for a few minutes in silence.

“It’s just, do you think it’s really a good idea, them spending all their time together like that?”

“That ship’s kinda sailed, dude.”

“What?”

“I mean they’ve been joined at the hip for like months. You shoulda spoke then if you weren’t prepared to hold your peace.”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “Whatever that means.”

“It means you gotta try to be less jealous,” Dave said, totally cool as he stacked cans of Tab in his pajamas. 

“I am not _jealous_! I am so over whatever Terezi and I _might_ have had and I have been for _so_ long that there is really nothing to say on the ma--”

“Dude, chill, the Mayor is sleeping.”

Karkat closed his mouth with a click, glaring at the can towers to vent the unvented anger. Waking the Mayor from his nap would be completely unacceptable. 

“I wasn’t being serious anyway,” Dave offered after a moment. 

Karkat shrugged stiffly, but he appreciated it.

He stacked the last can. Dave stood up and took a look at the stack. It was a little straighter than it had been a moment ago. 

“Looks good,” Karkat said. 

“Yeah, he’s gonna love it.” Dave sounded pleased. 

“Should we get the banner started too?” 

“Good call.”

The Mayor liked to put the finishing touches on large art projects, but cutting paper and writing bubble letters stressed him out a little.

Dave picked up the roll of butcher paper they’d managed to alchemize and started towards one corner of the room. Karkat followed him. They were planning a banner long enough to span the back wall.

“So are we just going to write ‘Can Town’ over and over or is there some other plan here?” Karkat asked.

“I was gonna ask the Mayor, but I guess he’s asleep. Maybe, like, ‘Can Town, USA?’ Oh, er, ‘Can Town, Meteor… Country?’” He paused. “Did you guys ever name the meteor?”

“Did we do _what_?” Karkat asked incredulously. He went to grab the loose end of paper Dave was letting dangle on the floor. “Here, give me an end…”

“Yeah, wait, it’s upside down.” Dave shook Karkat’s hand off the paper, going to turn the whole roll around.

“What do you mean, upside down? There is no upside down, it's blank paper.” Despite his griping, Karkat waited and let Dave orient the roll to his preference. Then he took the end and started walking backwards to the other wall.

“So you guys never named it? Is that not a troll thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we never named it because we all kind of expected to die here in a pretty immediate sense of the word ‘die,’ and some of us turned out to be right.” Karkat realized as the words were out of his mouth that that had gone way darker than Dave had intended. Dave’s silence seemed to confirm it. 

Karkat tried to pivot. “Do you want to name it or something?”

“No, I guess it’d be weird.”

Dave kept rolling paper out until Karkat was on the other side of the room. They would have had to raise their voices to talk clearly across the space, and it was unthinkable to wake the Mayor before he was ready. Dave cut the paper and Karkat brought his end back. 

They laid out the banner on the floor carefully, in a process that proved more complicated than perhaps it needed to be. Eventually, they were on the floor, writing “CAN TOWN” on the butcher paper in block letters over and over. The Mayor likely had his own vision for the particulars, but this part they could be sure of.

“What about the clown?” Dave asked suddenly. 

Karkat’s marker froze over the paper for a moment. “What about him?”

“I mean, Vriska’s still keeping an eye on him, right?” It was a completely casual question, but Karkat bristled. 

“I don’t know, Strider,” Karkat said a little shortly. “I haven’t heard from Gamzee in fucking perigees, and Vriska’s sure not telling anyone where she’s keeping him these days.”

“Uh… yeah? Good?” Dave sounded confused. “He sounds like the fucking worse. I just meant, I kinda forgot about him for a while there.”

Karkat made a dark, wet dot on one corner of a “T” pressing the marker into the paper. “Yeah. Me too.”

They kept working without talking anymore. Karkat didn’t want to admit it, but it soothed his anger to do this mindless drawing. Before they were done prepping the banner, the Mayor was awake. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and clapped his delight at the good job they’d done and whatever dark thoughts had arisen from their conversation were gently pushed from Karkat’s thinkpan.

>Karkat: Call out your asshole alien friend.

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 22:46--

CG: STRIDER  
CG: ARE YOU UP?  
CG: ARE YOU BUSY?  
CG: JUST KIDDING I KNOW YOU’RE NOT BUSY.  
CG: WHATEVER.  
CG: JUST TROLL ME LATER.  
TG: sup  
CG: OH HEY  
CG: ARE WE DOING MOVIE NIGHT TONIGHT?  
TG: yeah we could  
TG: why?  
TG: got a request?  
CG: I FOUND A MOVIE IN MY PILE I HAVEN’T SEEN IN A WHILE  
CG: IT’S CALLED “IN WHICH A JADEBLOOD ATTEMPTS MATESPRITSHIP WITH A MEDICULLER WHOSE FLUSH QUADRANT IS ALREADY FILLED. THE JADEBLOOD IS TASKED WITH THE PLANNING OF A BANQUET FOR THE MEDICULLER’S MATESPRIT AT THE SAME TIME AS SHE IS WAXING RED. FEATURING ONE MOIRALLEGIANCE THAT FLIPS ASHEN TEMPORARILY, ONE INSTANCE OF TEMPORARY RED-BLACK VACILLATION, ONE INSTANCE OF PERMANENT QUADRANT FLIPPING FROM FLUSH TO PITCH, ETC”  
TG: do your hands get tired typing out your weird troll movie titles?  
CG: DO YOUR HANDS GET TIRED JACKING YOUR OWN BULGE DAY AND NIGHT?  
TG: hah  
TG: that one actually works  
TG: solid interspecies burn  
CG: ANYWAY THAT IS WHAT WE ARE WATCHING  
CG: SO DON’T LET ANYONE ELSE TELL YOU OTHERWISE.  
CG: THAT IS MY DECISION.  
TG: sure dude whatever  
TG: wait  
TG: is this one of those weird troll movies with all the troll versions of human actors??  
TG: whos in this one??  
CG: TROLL MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY AND A BUNCH OF LESSER PEONS WHO AREN’T TROLL MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY.  
TG: haha what  
TG: thats wild  
TG: how is it even a thing that theres a troll version of him  
TG: paradox space is so fucking weird  
CG: DON’T YOU MEAN HOW IS IT EVEN A THING THAT THERE IS A HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF HIM?  
CG: EVEN IF HE IS NOT TRULY “EQUIVALENT” DUE TO HIS WEIRD TEETH AND LESS IMPRESSIVE OVERALL SKILL LEVEL IN PORTRAYING THE NUANCES OF INTERPERSONAL CHEMISTRY. OURS IS CLEARLY THE SUPERIOR EXAMPLE.  
CG: TROLL MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY CAME FIRST, DAVE.  
TG: haha that’s a gay way to say it  
CG: WHATEVER THAT MEANS  
TG: oh god  
TG: karkat  
TG: i am dying  
CG: WHAT?  
TG: i mean laughing  
TG: its hilarious that you dont know what gay means  
TG: youre like the gayest dude i know  
TG: actually  
TG: give me a minute  
CG: OH NO  
CG: THIS IS GOING TO BE REGRETTABLE, I CAN TELL.  
TG: how gay you may ask?

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] has sent carcinoGeneticist [CG] the file “atleastthisgay.BMP” --

[Not shown: an MS Paint rendering of a caped troll with nubby horns and a smiley face riding a human dick into the sunset like he’s hugging an airborne missile.]

TG: thats your godtier  
TG: like instead of wings  
TG: flying dick steed  
TG: giddy up little doggy  
TG: dont let it buck you off  
TG: wrap right around that motherfucker for your life  
CG: WHY DO I EVEN HUMOR THIS PANROTTING GARBAGE FROM YOU AT THIS POINT?  
CG: I KNOW THAT AS SOON AS I OPEN THAT FILE  
CG: I’M GOING TO FEEL LIKE THE BUTT OF SOME RIDICULOUS WIGGLERISH JOKE.  
TG: hey you dont gotta open it  
TG: i mean i poured my heart and soul into this one kats but whatev  
TG: ill just describe it  
CG: TOO LATE  
CG: I ALREADY OPENED IT  
CG: YOU CAN STOP  
CG: DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THIS EVEN?  
TG: its you riding a dick into the sunset  
TG: boom  
CG: WHAT  
CG: I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS BUT I DON’T NEED TO UNDERSTAND HUMAN POP CULTURE TO KNOW I’M SUPPOSED TO BE OFFENDED  
CG: I JUST DON’T KNOW HOW OFFENDED  
CG: OR WHAT IT HAS TO DO WITH TROLL MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY.  
TG: uh  
TG: hmm  
TG: nothing i guess  
TG: now that i think about it  
TG: but youre into regular matthew mcconaughey  
TG: i mean the human one  
CG: OH SCREW YOU STRIDER  
TG: yeah i bet you’d like to  
CG: DON’T FLATTER YOURSELF  
TG: don’t deny it, bro  
TG: i know you want all this  
TG: you cant see me rn but i bet you can imagine  
TG: this pasty white all-american beefcake  
CG: OKAY WELL THIS IS NOT WHAT I WAS ANTICIPATING WHEN I FOUND ONE OF MY FAVORITE MOVIES ON THE FLOOR THIS EVENING AND DECIDED TO VOLUNTEER IT FOR MOVIE NIGHT.  
CG: HAVE A NICE FUCKING DAY  
TG: haha come on bro its just a joke  
TG: its ironic  
TG: irony is basically the height of human jokes  
TG: like my amazing artwork i sent you  
TG: was me calling you gay again  
TG: you know  
TG: ironically  
TG: cause youre pretty gay but its not gay for you cause you dont know have that word  
TG: its hella ironic dude  
CG: BECAUSE YOU WON’T TELL ME WHAT IT MEANS?  
CG: SO YOU’RE JUST MAKING SOME KIND OF HUMAN JOKE AT MY EXPENSE THAT I CAN’T EVEN PARTICIPATE IN LAUGHING AT?  
CG: *WOW.*  
CG: SO ***IRONIC***.  
CG: YOUR GRASP OF THE ”IRONIC” ARTS HAS CAUSED ME TO “IRONICALLY” ROLL MY GANDERBULBS SO FAR THEY FELL OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS AND I NOW NEED TO CLOSE THIS “IRONICALLY” HATEMONGERING CONVERSATION BEFORE IT STARTS FUCKING MY THINKPAN THROUGH THE RECENTLY VACATED HOLE.  
TG: uh  
CG: I KNOW YOUR SPECIES DOESN’T HAVE A CONCEPT OF CALIGINOUS ROMANCE, STRIDER.  
TG: ew  
CG: SO I HAVE TO CONCLUDE THAT THIS IS JUST YOU BEING AN ASSHOLE.  
CG: SO FUCK YOU.  
TG: shit  
TG: sorry  
TG: you still there  
CG: YES.  
TG: sorry man  
TG: i guess now that i think about it  
TG: i can see where i may have slightly been the asshole just now  
CG: YOU FUCKING THINK?  
TG: yeah i need to cool it  
TG: that there was a pretty in your face train wreck of freudian hazing  
CG: MEANING?  
TG: meaning im the asshole  
TG: it is me  
CG: I’LL TAKE THAT AS “I’M SORRY.” THANK YOU.  
CG: NOW EXPLAIN THE JOKE.  
TG: oof  
TG: ok  
TG: how do i put this  
TG: the whole gay thing was kind of an inside joke i had with john  
TG: and it was hilarious because we weren’t gay  
TG: and also dicks are hilarious  
TG: this is just a universal fact  
TG: like probably also on alternia if you guys knew what a dick is  
CG: YEAH NONE OF THAT MEANS ANYTHING TO ME.  
CG: I KNOW YOU’RE PROBABLY CHOKING ON YOUR OWN BULGE TO HAVE A COOL ALIEN FRIEND WILLING TO PUT UP WITH WHAT SPEWS FROM YOUR DEMENTED THINKPAN, BUT I AM NOT EQUIPPED WITH ANY PSIONIC CAPABILITIES.  
CG: I CANNOT OPEN YOUR LEAKY SHIT SANDWICH OF A THINKPAN AND FLIP TO THE INDEX WHEN I MISS SOMETHING.  
CG: I HAVE REACHED THE END OF MY TOLERANCE FOR THIS WHOLE “GAY” ISSUE.  
CG: EXPLAIN THE JOKE OR GO FUCK YOURSELF.  
TG: see i dont make you explain bulges  
TG: but im pretty sure i can figure out what that meant from context  
CG: OKAY SO GO FUCK YOURSELF  
TG: chill im typing  
TG: gay just means youre a guy and you like other guys  
TG: but like also some of the stuff you’re into is kinda gay  
TG: like chick flicks  
TG: i guess thats probably another one you dont get  
TG: fuck this is actually really hard  
CG: I’M WAITING.  
TG: i guess  
TG: sometimes gay guys like girl stuff  
TG: and the movies you like are pretty girly dude you gotta admit  
CG: HOW SO?  
TG: seriously??  
CG: MOTHERFUCKER, HAVE I BEEN GIVING YOU THE IMPRESSION THAT I AM ANYTHING BUT SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?  
TG: uh  
TG: ok  
TG: well  
TG: on earth those movies are called chick flicks  
TG: because theyre for chicks  
TG: like that’s who watches them  
TG: and if a guy likes them, its kinda gay  
CG: SETTING ASIDE THE BULGEBLOCKING STUPIDITY OF YOUR HUMAN GENDER QUADRANTS FOR JUST ONE NOOKCHAFING SECOND  
CG: WHY ARE THOSE THINGS EVEN RELATED?  
TG:  
TG: wow nothing like a cool alien buddy to make you feel like an asshole  
TG: this conversation rocks  
TG: a+ ill hang it on the fridge  
TG: so i always remember how proud i was this day  
CG: I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS BUT IF YOU FEEL LIKE AN ASSHOLE, GOOD.  
CG: CAN YOU JUST EXPLAIN THE PICTURE AGAIN?  
TG: yeah  
TG: i might be off base here, but i think a dick is like a human bulge  
TG: if a bulge is your alien joystick  
CG: UGH  
CG: WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SAY SHIT LIKE THAT?  
CG: AND WHAT THE FUCK IS GAY ABOUT BULGES?  
TG: uh  
TG: because dudes have them  
CG: SO?  
TG: …  
TG: and girls dont  
CG: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?  
CG: HUMAN WOMEN DON’T HAVE BULGES?  
CG: HOW IS THAT EVEN SUPPOSED TO *WORK?*  
TG: uh  
TG: what  
CG: DO HALF OF YOUR PEOPLE JUST NOT PARTICIPATE IN BREEDING?  
TG: i am so lost here  
TG: but thats totally fucking ok with me  
TG: this is kind of too much information  
TG: im not really ready to give the birds and the bees talk to an alien right now  
CG: WHAT?  
TG: this is really awkward  
TG: is that enough of an explanation or  
CG: SURE, WHATEVER.  
CG: WE HAVE SUCH WEIRD FUCKING CONVERSATIONS SOMETIMES.  
CG: BASICALLY ALL OF WHICH ARE YOUR FAULT LATELY.  
TG: lol  
TG: dude can we just pretend this conversation never happened  
TG: im an asshole lets move on with our lives  
CG: YEAH.  
CG: I’M USED TO IT.  
CG: I HAVE A LOT OF ASSHOLE FRIENDS.  
CG: I’LL SEE YOU AT CAN TOWN.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] stopped trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 23:28 --  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] stopped pestering carcinoGeneticist [TG] at 23:38 -

>Karkat: Go see the Mayor. 

Movie night didn’t exactly have a set start time, but Karkat was sure he’d hear from Dave again before he set up in the common room. “Night” was a nebulous concept on the meteor, but Dave seemed to have decided that it occurs around the time some of them might otherwise plan on sleeping. If Karkat was right and Dave had just been getting up when he trolled him, it would almost certainly be a few hours before Karkat had to worry about his addled alien thinkpan and its bizarre and off-putting brand of humor again. 

As soon as his palmhusk was back in his sylladex, he was on his feet and walking to Can Town. He tried to put a couple of hours in there every day if he could; the Mayor really seemed to need the help. He was constantly editing himself, zoning and rezoning, building and rebuilding, as though he was looking to find the best version of Can Town by process of elimination. Karkat wasn’t the tallest troll, or the strongest, but the Mayor looked so small and frail that Karkat was hypercompetent in comparison. It was hard not to find him just a little bit pitiable. In the platonic, human sense of the word, of course. Of course. 

As he approached the door opening at the end of the hall, Karkat slowed and quieted his footsteps. He didn’t have to think to do it; it was an automatic response to the sounds of people where he wasn’t expecting them. 

(“...I am such a fucking asshole, bro, why did I even say any of that shit? Rose would’ve had a fucking Freudian field day with that shit, fuck, I should’ve asked if he’d delete the logs…”)

It was the telltale sounds of Dave muttering to himself. By the sound of it, he was on the floor to the left of the doorway, just out of Karkat’s sight from his current position. If he came any closer, he might see him or risk being seen. Karkat froze. 

(“... why the fuck does he even get to be angry, it was actually hilarious. Ironic gay shit between bros is always funny, why does he gotta get so fucking serious about it…”)

Dave kept on muttering. From where he stood, transfixed in the hallway, Karkat heard the sound of fabric and shoe soles dragging against the concrete floor, then a low murmuring click that caught him off guard. It almost sounded like someone’s lusus. He was frowning. What was the etiquette in this situation? Dave’s audible murmuring was echoing into the concrete hall, betrayed by the acoustics. He hardly seemed to be trying to hide or muffle his anxious word vomit. Should Karkat barge in, make sure Dave knows how vulnerable he is in this position, so he doesn’t do it again? Maybe fit in a joke at Dave’s expense, to make up for some of the teasing Karkat had been enduring?

It was nice to think about being that confident and aggressive, but what Karkat actually did was inch towards the end of the hallway. He was practically holding his breath, curiosity getting him ahead of himself.

(“...aw, no, buddy, don’t you get it? It’s funny. It’s fucking hilarious. I was being such an asshole. Haha. That was fucking hilarious, hehehehehehehehaha…”)

The manic laughter that was teetering on the precipice of anguish and mirth was raising all sorts of alarm bells in the back of Karkat’s thinkpan. It was hard to reconcile that with Dave’s usual speaking voice. Then, suddenly, it was muffled. There was a lurching in the pit of Karkat’s digestion bladder, and his bloodpusher was getting louder and louder in his ears. One moment he was mildly concerned for a hatefriend (friend? Dave made it hard to be sure), and the next he was remembering what happened when a troll couldn’t keep his rage in check. What about humans? How did that even work for them? Did Karkat need his sickles? He could feel his pan pushing away helplessly at the painful recent memories that were fraying his nerves where he stood. He didn’t open his strife specibus, but he did clench two fists to steady himself.

Then he took another step until the pathetic mass of Dave Strider came into view. He didn’t unclench his frond nubs, and he didn’t come any closer, as the muffled laughter from the huddled bright red lump of pajamas and near-translucent alien skin came to a strangled crescendo. The cape spilled around him on the floor like a sickeningly candy-red puddle. The Mayor was sitting right next to him, legs crossed. Dave had his face on the Mayor’s shoulder, leaning into him on the floor. The look in the Mayor’s eye was definitely more alarmed than anything else, but his little hands were on Dave’s shoulders and he seemed to be trying to calm him down. He seemed twitchy, patting Dave’s back with the fervor of someone trying to put out a fire with his hands. Karkat hadn’t ever seen the Mayor so agitated before, and even from this distance it was plain to see how in over his head the little guy was. 

Karkat felt sick. He could taste digestion fluid, bitter in the back of his protein chute. He was trying not to see the similarities because they weren’t real. They really weren’t. It was just Karkat’s warped perception. But it was still familiar when Dave muttered to himself all the time about shit that made no sense. When he was spending his time on stupid bullshit instead of caring about the mission at hand. And right now, when Dave was having an uncontrollable giggle breakdown, and Karkat kept expecting to hear honking.

Dave’s back was shuddering. He stood out so harshly against the dull colors of the room around him. He was all red and pink with hair that may as well have been white. He looked fragile, but the god tier cape said otherwise. 

They’d never really talked about it, but Karkat loosely gathered that time travel was grisly, risky business. He did his best not to forget either of the humans could snap in a god tier fit of destructive stupidity and push them all through the thresher. Though if Karkat was being honest, Dave didn’t look like he was going to cull anyone. Well, so long as he wasn’t startled. He wondered what Dave was even losing his pan over. He looked so pitiful. Or, rather, pathetic, or small, or some other marginally less sentimental term. 

Then, suddenly, Karkat realized that the Mayor had actually seen him. Was in fact looking at him and reaching out to him in a gentle appeal for assistance. No, oh hell no. Karkat froze in misattributed terror as he desperately searched for a foothold in the situation.

“HahahaHAHahahaha… Fuck. Sorry little guy. This is pretty fucked up…” 

Dave was sitting up, and that gave Karkat the nudge he needed to turn and start briskly back down the hallway. His footsteps were extremely audible in the industrial hollow, but he didn’t even care. He’d deny having been here to his last breath. Sorry, Mayor. Karkat would have to check in with him one-on-one later.

As for Dave, he resolved to chalk the whole thing up to a brief bout of human space madness, and promised himself he’d say something as leader if it ever happened again.

Or it would never happen again and he could just wipe it from his pan.

Whatever was going on back there, there was no way the Mayor needed Karkat’s help handling it. Dave was going to be fine. He was crumpled up on the floor, weep-laughing in Can Town. There was no way it could escalate into anything dangerous. He kept telling himself that until he pushed enough of the self-loathing out of his brain to move forward.

He chalked the whole thing up to some kind of human space madness and told himself he’d pretend he never saw anything.

>Dave: Suppress your feelings and go to movie night.

“I gotta say I was skeptical, but honestly, Troll Jennifer Lopez is worth the price of admission on this one.”

“What price of admission?” Karkat snorted. “Alchemizing your own puffed kernels?”

Dave shrugged, mouth already full of popcorn again. It turned out to just be them for movie night again, as was beginning to be standard. They still congregated in the common room, and it was actually sort of surprising that they weren’t bumping into any of their friends there these days. If Dave were inclined to take it personally, he’d think the others were avoiding movie night altogether. 

Then again, the movie on tap tonight was the Troll Wedding Planner, so it was a testament to his boredom that Dave hadn’t peaced out himself. 

“Red or black?” Karkat was asking him, eyes still on the screen.

“Huh?”

“Troll Jenifer Lopez,” Karkat clarified, giving him a side eye that made Dave feel like an idiot. “Red or black?”

“Oh, dude, no. Is that a quadrant thing? I don’t do quadrant things.”

“Really? Sound the fucking alarms, Dave fucking Strider can huff my bulge about human quadrant shit night and day, but ask him one simple fucking question about an objectively hot troll and he--”

“Whatever, fine, chill,” Dave sighed. If he had a boonbuck for every time he had to tell Shouty McNubs to chill, he could start a goddamn stock market. “Just tell me which one’s which again.”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “If you’d rather pity her senseless, that’s red. If you’d rather ragehump her into the concupiscent platform, that’s black.” He said it as though he was repeating a sandwich order to a particularly slow Subway sandwich artist. 

Dave stared at him after that blunt and strangely graphic description. Karkat wasn’t looking at him, watching the movie with determined nonchalance. “Uhh… neither?”

“That makes no sense,” Karkat shot back immediately.

“Whatever, dude. I was just trying to say that Jennifer Lopez is hot, I didn’t realize I had to start pouring out my heart and sharing hate-fantasies.”

The movie had reached a point where the music was swelling, signalling a turning point worth watching. Troll Matthew McConaughey was holding Troll Not-Jennifer-Lopez against a wall while a strange, pink-tinted rain poured outside the window. Dave refocused on the scene, letting it play out for a moment. 

“God, I love Troll Matthew McConaughey in pitch roles,” Karkat gushed suddenly, corners of his mouth lifting in the telltale excitement that always hit him during a good movie. 

Dave glanced back at Karkat, trying not to turn his head enough that the troll would notice. For his part, Karkat was just watching his big gay celebrity crush getting all aggressive with a troll girl, looking for all the part that he wanted to be the girl in the scenario. As in, the girl in the movie, not--that’s not what I meant. Dave shook his head unconsciously to clear it. Karkat didn’t even look. He didn’t even realize how weird it was for him to look like that. He didn’t realize how weird it was when he talked about Troll Matthew McConaughey and all the weird troll sex quadrants he might want him in. He didn’t think it was a thing, or that anyone would care. 

Dave supposed it wasn’t a thing, and nobody would care, but that in itself was pretty fucking weird. But Karkat didn’t even know that. There was something to marvel at in that. Just by existing, it was like Karkat was giving a huge middle finger to everyone who had ever told him what to do on Earth. Not that that was a long list. Dave turned his attention back to the screen in time for a good shot of Troll Matthew McConaughey’s ruggedly curved horns and intimidating gaze.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess I can see that,” Dave finally replied, trying it on for size, but Karkat was too engrossed in the movie to reply.

>==>

PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 9.8%


	3. >Dave: Withdraw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Dave being depressed and down on himself, Rose's implied underage drinking, and teenagers being awkward about their feelings.

PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 10.3%

  
  


>Dave: Withdraw.

  
  
  


Dave’s room was down a hallway off of one of the transportalizers in the hub they’d unlocked for him on arrival. He had made an effort to decorate at first, alchemizing furniture and other bits and bobs of life. A desk for his laptop. A chair for the desk. A full set of quadrant-print bedsheets for the mattress. Some regrettable monstrosity of a lamp that he’d alchemized out of a fruit roll up and an industrial lighting fixture. Some experimental speakers he hadn’t managed to get working yet. Cinder blocks for texture. A pencil holder, usually empty. So ironic.

Aside from those efforts and a spreading carpet of garbage, the room had all the charm of a prison cell. Even with those things, charm wasn’t the right word. It looked like an alien had created a full-scale model of a human bedroom and then a human had trashed it. By, for the sake of argument, filling it with alchemized chips and fruit snacks and then letting the crumbs and plastic lie wherever they landed. This was, in fact, the situation, except that the only alien responsible for the sorry state of the room was Dave Strider.

Sometimes, Dave just found himself spending a lot of time on his mattress in his pajamas. Well, the pajamas were part of business as usual, but the mattress was usually more of an eight-hour-a-day thing.

It was stupid and embarrassing, but sometimes, Dave just couldn’t handle being around anyone. It’s not like there was any reason, or like he was avoiding anything. It wasn’t like he’d been saying stupid shit to his friends and maybe being super weird and kind of homophobic about some stuff. It wasn’t like he’d been half-avoiding Rose since the last time he’d hidden from the world, or like he’d been bummed that she seemed glad to let him. It wasn’t like he had any problems to talk about at all, because he didn’t. 

He was just sort of over everything.

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 00:41 --

CG: HEY.

CG: I’M GONNA BE LATE TO CAN TOWN TODAY.

CG: I PROMISED THE MAYOR SOME FRESH CHALK SO I NEED TO HIT THE ALCHEMIZER FIRST AND IT’S KIND OF A LONG FUCKING ANNOYING WALK.

CG: SO YEAH I’LL MEET YOU THERE… HOWEVER MUCH LATER I GUESS.

CG: NOT THAT I KNOW WHY I’M EVEN TELLING YOU, YOU’RE GONNA BE THERE ANYWAY.

\-- turntechGodhead is an idle chum! --

CG: WHATEVER, I GUESS I’LL SEE YOU IN CAN TOWN.

CG: UNLESS YOU WANTED TO GO DO SOME ALCHEMIZING WITH ME FIRST.

CG: IF YOU SEE THIS SOON.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 00:49 --

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist began [CG] trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 03:25 --

CG: DUDE WHERE ARE YOU?

CG: THE MAYOR SAID YOU HAVEN’T BEEN HERE YET TODAY.

CG: ARE YOU THERE?

CG: OKAY WELL WE HAVE SHIT TO DO HERE, SO JUST GET HERE WHEN YOU CAN.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 03:27 --

  
  
  


Dave rolled over in his bed, nearly choking himself on his god tier cape. He fumbled with it for a moment until it came off, balling it up and throwing it in the vague direction of the far wall. Why had he even put it on? He wasn’t going anywhere.

He heard his phone make another sound from somewhere in the blankets. It hit him with the nauseating blend of relief and self-loathing that he was getting used to. For some stupid reason, Karkat was still checking up on him. He didn’t want to admit to it, because it was needy, and it was shitty, but hearing from Karkat was turning into the highlight of his day. He wasn’t even saying anything back. He’d straight-up ghosted him and Rose and  _ the Mayor _ and that definitely made him an asshole. And because he was such an asshole, Karkat’s angry-worried messages were actually making Dave feel a little better. 

After fighting himself on it for a moment, he gave in to the urge to check his phone.

So fucked up.

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 01:18 --

CG: MOVIE NIGHT TONIGHT?

CG: NO?

\-- turntechGodhead is now an idle chum! --

CG: I GUESS NO.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 01:48 --

  
  
  


Dave was pretty sure he had seen every movie that they had on the meteor at this point. It was possible Rose was withholding something, just because she would, but barring that it was going to be all rewatching from here on out. He wondered idly if he could get the captcha for any new ones from a dream bubble or something.

Lately, Karkat had been pretty bossy about getting to pick their movies. He had salvaged a handful of Alternian DVDs and an online library that seemed to be a tribute to Dane Cook, Matthew McConaughey, and a handful of slightly better actors whose bodies of work weren’t as well-represented in Karkat’s collection. If there were worse things to be stuck watching over and over in the void of space, Dave couldn’t think of any. Matthew McConaughey was one thing, but what kind of a dork was attracted to Dane Cook? He had, like, the sleaziest eyes and the shittiest voice. He was like the human incarnation of unwelcome check-out lane conversations and loud phone calls made by creepy dudes on an inner city bus. It was definitely not a gay celebrity crush Dave could relate to.

Not that there were any he could relate to.

Shut up.

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 03:47--

CG: I DON’T KNOW IF YOU’RE EVEN READING MY MESSAGES AT THIS POINT, BUT THE MAYOR IS WORRIED ABOUT YOU.

CG: HE’S TRYING TO WORK ON THE OVERPASS AND I’M HELPING HIM BUT HE KEEPS KNOCKING THINGS OVER.

CG: IT’S NOT LIKE HIM. I CAN STILL TELL HE’S WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU.

CG: DON’T FUCKING DO THIS TO THE MAYOR, DAVE.

CG: IT’S COMPLETELY UNCONSCIONABLE. 

\--- turntechGodhead is an idle chum! --

CG: FINE. I’M NOT YOUR LUSUS, IT’S NOT MY JOB TO DRAG YOU OUT OF YOUR BLOCK WHEN YOU’RE BEING USELESS.

CG: TROLL ME IF YOU WANNA DO MOVIE NIGHT.

CG: I HAVE A VIEWING LIST LOCKED AND LOADED, STRIDER.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 03:52 --

  
  
  


Oh god, the Mayor. That was a wave of guilt Dave didn’t need. He curled up around a pillow, holding his phone far away as if that would make everything stop. The messages, the existence of people who cared about him, the Mayor’s potentially-broken little heart. Not that he actually wanted Karkat to go silent. Not that he wouldn’t be gutted if the Mayor simply didn’t care when he disappeared for days on end. Being completely ignored by everyone was, against all odds, even worse than the occasional reminder that he was a huge asshole. He’d been an asshole to Karkat, he’d been an asshole to Rose, and he was probably just going to be an asshole forever.  _ Probably runs in the family _ , he thought darkly. 

Besides, Karkat didn’t even know what he was talking about. There was basically a zero percent chance that the Mayor wasn’t totally sick of his shit by now. 

He tossed the phone to the other end of the mattress, listening as he missed and it clattered to the hard floor. It wasn’t making anymore noises, so Karkat seemed to be done trying for the moment.

Good. He didn’t need to bother himself about Dave’s bullshit anyway. 

  
  
  


>Karkat: Seek out the Seer.

  
  
  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling tentacleTherapist [TT] at 12:01 --

CG: ARE YOU AWAKE?

CG: IT’S ABOUT STRIDER.

TT: I am.

TT: What seems to be the porblem?

TT: Problem

CG: HAVE YOU SEEN HIM ANYWHERE?

CG: HE’S NEEDED IN CAN TOWN AND HE ISN’T SHOWING UP FOR HIS SHIFTS.

TT: How irresponsibel of him.

TT: Truly somthing must be done to bring him to justice.

CG: ?

CG: ARE YOU WITH TEREZI RIGHT NOW?

TT: No

TT: i’m not with anyone

CG: UH OKAY.

CG: IS DAVE OKAY? DO WE NEED TO SEND A SEARCH PARTY?

TT: Oh he’s fiine.

TT: He doesn’t need anything from anyon

TT: Probably just a vitamin defficency

TT: Deficensy

TT: He’s not getting sunlight.

CG: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, LALONDE?

CG: AND WHY ARE YOU DOING SUCH A SHITTY JOB DOING IT?

TT: you wound me, Karkat.

TT: But if you must know

TT: I may be sampling some alchemized bevrages

TT: beverages

CG: OKAY WHATEVER TO THAT TOO. 

CG: ARE YOU SURE DAVE IS FINE? DID HE TALK TO YOU?

TT: He doesnt want to talk to anyone

TT: Dont waste your time

TT: He’s fine i’m fine were all fine together

TT: lol

CG: WOW THAT FILLS ME WITH SO MUCH CONFIDENCE.

CG: IS THE SUN THING SERIOUS?

TT: So serious karkat you dont even know.

TT: lol

TT: We haven’t seen the sun since the world ended.

TT: i hope when we win we get the sun back.

CG: UH.

CG: OKAY.

CG: THIS HAS DEFINITELY BEEN SOMETHING BUT I HAVE TO GO.

CG: ENJOY YOUR ‘BEVRAGES.’

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling tentacleTherapist [TT] at 12:21 --

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 12:29 --

CG: OKAY SO I’M PRETTY SURE YOU’RE STILL ALIVE IN THERE.

CG: ALSO YOU HAVEN’T BLOCKED ME YET SO I GUESS I’M JUST GOING TO KEEP BOTHERING YOU.

CG: I GUESS I COULD LEAVE YOU ALONE AND LET YOU STEW IN YOUR OWN JUICES OR WHATEVER.

CG: BUT YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE I ACTUALLY KNOW WHO ISN’T ALL ABOARD THE SERKET TRAIN TO HAREBRAINED SCHEMES AND SHOVING YOUR HEAD UP YOUR OWN NOOK. 

CG: ASIDE FROM THE MAYOR.

CG: AND I FEEL WEIRD WATCHING QUADRANT MOVIES WITH HIM.

CG: I DON’T THINK HE GETS QUADRANTS AT ALL AND HE JUST GETS EMBARRASSED.

CG: IT’S PRETTY CUTE, ACTUALLY.

CG: YOU’RE PROBABLY NEVER GOING TO READ THESE MESSAGES OR COME OUT OF YOUR ANGST CAVE FOR LONG ENOUGH TO TROLL ME ABOUT THEM SO I’LL ADMIT IT.

CG: THE MAYOR IS FUCKING ADORABLE.

CG: AND HE CARES SO MUCH ABOUT YOU, YOU GAPING SPEW TUNNEL.

\-- turntechGodhead is now an idle chum!--

CG: MORE LIKE A COWARDLY FUCKING WIGGLER WHO WON’T EVEN TALK TO HIS FRIENDS.

CG: I THOUGHT WE WERE DOING THAT.

CG: THE HUMAN EMOTION CALLED FRIENDSHIP?

CG: OR I GUESS IT’S NOT ACTUALLY AN EMOTION, I GUESS. FUCK IT.

CG: I DON’T ACTUALLY CARE EITHER WAY, BUT I DON’T EXACTLY HAVE A LOT ON MY NUTRITION PLATEAU. 

CG: AND LIKE I SAID: THE MAYOR IS WORRIED.

CG: UGH.

CG: ROSE SAID THIS WAS BECAUSE YOU RIDICULOUS MAMMALS HAVE BEEN AWAY FROM YOUR SOLAR SYSTEM’S YELLOW SUN FOR TOO LONG.

CG: IS THAT WHAT THIS IS?

CG: SOME KIND OF SICKNESS?

CG: …

CG: DO YOU WANT HELP?

CG: NO FUCK THAT’S STUPID OF COURSE YOU DON’T.

CG: SORRY.

CG: I’M AN IDIOT.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 12:42 --

  
  
  


>Dave: Feel called out.

  
  
  


Karkat’s messages had woken him up from another frantic dream. His old apartment, his old room. His old roof. The feeling of a hot sun baking his skin. The rooftop might as well have been a griddle as far as his feet were concerned. His hands were gripping the door handle, and it was so hot, hotter than seemed possible. He was banging on the door,  _ begging _ to be let in, and he knew somehow that Bro could  _ hear _ \--

But he was awake now, and the dream was fading fast. 

As Dave, sweaty in the nest of blankets he’d passed out in, skimmed Karkat’s texts, he felt the grating numbness in his chest resolve into miserable anger. Why was Karkat like this? Why did he constantly have to call Dave out on all his actual bullshit? Why couldn’t he just either get with the Strider program as written or just  _ fuck off already _ ?

Most of all, why did he have to talk to Rose?

At first, Rose had been the one to pester him when he hid in his room. She tried to get him in on working with spiderbitch on some plan they wouldn’t be able to enact for years anyway. She tried to talk to him about his aspect, the doomed timelines, what it was like to die. That last one had done it. He’d lost his cool and given her hell. He made it abundantly fucking clear that he didn’t want her in his business like that anymore. Rose was a seer, but if she had been able to see that Dave was lying, she didn’t show her hand. Now their conversations were stilted and awkward, as if they were playing a game where the last person to apologize won.

Dave could only imagine the type of shit she had said to Karkat. All the psychobabble and conjecture about what he might have been up to in here all by himself. Maybe some snide dig about how “repressed” he was. Rose loved talking about shit like that. He let out of a short, bitter laugh at the bit about sunlight. Leave it to Lalonde to concoct a clinical explanation for his asshole behavior. Who gave a shit about vitamin D? Didn’t the whole god tier thing compensate for shit that might kill you? It seemed like an extra problem to worry about when he didn’t need any extra problems. 

He silenced his phone for the rest of the night (day, who cares, whatever), knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist checking it in the morning anyway. He pulled his laptop closer to him, pressing play on some shitty movie. By the looks of it, maybe it was  _ Rush Hour _ again. 

Once it was playing, Dave turned over to face the darkness of the opposite wall. Eventually he fell back into the frantic tension of a shallow sleep.

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 04:17--

CG: SO I KNOW THIS IS GONNA BE A STRETCH, BUT I’M HANGING OUT IN CAN TOWN WITH THE MAYOR ON MY HUSKTOP.

CG: WE’RE GONNA PUT ON A MOVIE.

CG: THE MAYOR IS PROBABLY GOING TO TAKE A NAP. 

CG: YOU CAN COME DO MOVIE NIGHT WITH US IF YOU WANT.

\-- turntechGodhead is an idle chum! --

CG: WHATEVER DUDE.

\-- carcinoGeneticist is an idle chum! --

CG: WOW THAT SURE WAS A GREAT MOVIE NIGHT WE JUST HAD.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 06:15 --

  
  
  


>Dave: Give in to peer pressure.

  
  
  


Dave thought that if he lay still long enough, he’d manage to fall back asleep, but his body was having none of it. The bed he was laying in was clammy with his own sweat, the air in the room tasting dustier and smelling more like body odor the longer he stayed there. His brain felt like it was physically buzzing with unrelieved tension, and no position on the pillow made him feel less at risk of breaking apart like the degraded plastic handle of an old tea kettle. 

This was miserable, and he knew, on some level, what he was supposed to do about it. Karkat’s messages were still coming in in occasional bursts. The urge to respond was maddening. Dave was sure he didn’t really want to answer for himself with anyone, but he had been trapped in his room for what felt like an eternity in a doomed timeline. He wasn’t sure what his end game had been here to begin with. He’d resolved to lie there and do nothing for as long as his body would let him, and his resolve was weakening.

Eventually, after so much agonizing about it, he finally stood up. He pulled his shades out of his sylladex and picked his cape up off the floor. He needed to talk to someone who wasn’t going to make this harder for him. Which meant, he supposed, he needed to talk to someone who couldn’t actually talk to him.

Leaving the bedsheets a wrinkled mess and the snack wrappers on the floor, Dave left his room and started floating towards Can Town.

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 14:28 --

TG: hey

TG: you up

CG: HOLY FUCK.

CG: AM I HAVING SOME KIND OF HALLUCINOGENIC BREAKDOWN? OR IS THAT YOUR OSTENTATIOUS-ASS RED ON MY SCREEN?

TG: yeah i guess i deserve that

CG: SHIT.

CG: I DIDN’T MEAN TO BE AN ASSHOLE RIGHT OUT THE GATE.

CG: I HEARD YOU WERE SICK. ARE YOU BETTER NOW?

TG: i guess you could put it that way

TG: i dunno

TG: maybe rose was right about the sun thing

CG: I DIDN’T REALIZE HUMANS REQUIRED THE LIGHT OF THEIR SUN TO BE HEALTHY.

TG: neither did i

TG: rose did i guess

TG: shes prolly fine though

TG: shes got glowy vampire light to make up for it

TG: maybe it turns out kanaya makes vitamin d

CG: IS THAT A HUMAN DICK JOKE?

TG: hahaha

TG: no but that kinda works

TG: hey

TG: sorry for not responding before

TG: i dont know if you noticed but this year isnt going how i planned it on my vision board

TG: not that im unique there

TG: i mean maybe were all due to lose our shit at some point here

TG: right

CG: YEAH, I GET THAT.

CG: MY SHIT IS IN A PERPETUAL STATE OF ME LOSING IT ALL OVER WHOEVER PUTS THEMSELVES IN THE WAY.

TG: haha

TG: yeah youre the undisputed king of losing your shit

TG: way ahead of the rest of us shit-losing amateurs

TG: teach me your ways o sensei

CG: OF ALL THE THINGS I COULD HOPE TO SCHOOLFEED YOU ON, STRIDER, I HOPE THAT’S NOT ONE OF THEM.

CG: LOOK, THERE’S NO WAY I’M SLEEPING TODAY.

CG: IF YOU’RE UP, WE CAN WATCH A MOVIE.

TG: dude you really latched onto movie night huh

CG: NO!

CG: AND SHUT UP.

CG: YOU CAN JUST SAY NO, YOU SNIPPY CHUTE SCRAPER.

TG: come on karkles

TG: id actually be down for some bro time

TG: and the mayors asleep

CG: DID YOU SERIOUSLY GO CHECK ON THE MAYOR BEFORE TROLLING ME?

TG: dude of course i did

TG: its the mayor

CG: OF COURSE YOU DID.

CG: WELL SINCE YOU’RE ALREADY UP, YOU CAN DO ME THE ENORMOUS FAVOR OF NOT MAKING ME WALK ALL THE WAY TO CAN TOWN SINCE I WAS HALFWAY IN MY RECUPERACOON WHEN YOU DECIDED TO GRACE ME WITH THE HONOR OF YOUR COMMUNICATION.

CG: I’LL SET UP MY HUSKTOP IN MY BLOCK. 

CG: IT’S STILL YOUR TURN TO PICK THE MOVIE.

TG: uh sure dude

TG: only you still have to let me in the transportalizer

CG: WAIT A MINUTE.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] sent turntechGodhead [TG] the file “BASEOFOPERATIONSMAP.jpg” --

CG: THE BACK ENTRANCE TO THE SECRET ROOM EXITS PRETTY CLOSE TO CAN TOWN.

CG: I’D SAY DON’T TELL ANYONE BUT IT’S AN OPEN SECRET.

CG: THINK YOU CAN MANAGE?

TG: heck yeah

TG: i can handle a little find-vantass-room minigame

TG: ha

TG: vantass

TG: omg thats perfect

CG: NO. STOP THAT RIGHT NOW.

CG: DO NOT CALL ME THAT.

TG: why not??

TG: vantassss

CG: UGH.

CG: GET IT OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM BEFORE YOU GET HERE OR I WON’T UNLOCK THE DOOR.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 15:01 --

  
  
  


>Dave: Try not to be the asshole this time.

  
  
  


Karkat’s block was tucked into a sub-basement level, a modest walk (or float, in Dave’s case) from Can Town through a set of secret passages. The ceilings were lower here, the air just as stale and cold, the walls stone. Unlike the higher-up floors, the light here was softer and dimmer, lending sub-basement levels a uniquely disquieting and oppressive vibe. It was like being on a submarine, or perhaps an isolated bunker.

His respiteblock itself was just as dark, which Dave’s shades made challenging to see through, but it was considerably more lived in. There were troll movie posters on the wall, some of them peeling, some of them torn. There was a recuperacoon tucked against one wall, alongside a literal cauldron of boonbucks. Karkat’s husktop was set up in its legged desk, poised over the edge of what was a tidy pile of horns. From the moment he entered, Dave was making comments on the alien furnishings and various decor, ignoring the withering look it was earning him from Karkat.

“I can’t believe how many fucking movie posters you have in here. Did you really take the time to gather them up from your alien space house? Or did you figure out how to alchemize all of these? That’s pretty impressive if so, not gonna lie. Is that seriously a pile of horns, dude? What is it with you guys and horns?” Dave paused. “That’s a fucking pun. Is it seriously because of the pun, because I can’t decide if that would be ironically hilarious or sincerely awful.”

His nerves were a tangle of jitters by the time he had floated over to Karkat’s room, and if he didn’t keep talking about anything and everything he saw around him he felt like he might explode. Why did he have to be like this? 

When he looked at Karkat, he noticed in the dim light of the husktop how reflective his eyes were. It reminded Dave of looking at a cat or a puma in a nature show. Karkat’s hair was thick like a lion’s mane, too, and the texture made it seem constantly puffed up like he’s trying to look bigger than he is. His face is casually unamused, even thoughtful, but the feeling Dave had standing in the same room as him was different from how he felt with Rose or with Bro. He imagined it was maybe like learning to interact with a horse for the first time, only some version of that that didn’t compare his friendship with Karkat to riding horses. 

“Is it some sort of biological imperative for you to yammer constantly about whatever happens to be immediately in front of you?” Karkat was asking with long-suffering frustration from the chair by his husktop desk.

“So says Nubby McShoutsalot, Knight of Yelling.”

“Who’s fucking yelling?” Karkat started, technically making a valid point, “I don’t see anyone fucking yelling at  _ anyone _ in here. All I see is me, being gracious enough to invite my asshole friend to watch a goddamn bulgescraping movie. My asshole friend who is instead narrating the contents of my block like a  _ goddamn nature documentary _ at me.” By the time he was a couple of sentences in, his volume was already climbing to critical levels.

Dave took another look at Karkat. Wow, did he look tired all the time. In all fairness he had a point, but on the other hand, his fuse had been pretty short lately.

“Take it easy, dude,” he said by way of backpedaling. “Honestly, I figured I was in for a classic Vant-ass chewing out for ducking out on movie night.”

Karkat shrugged stiffly, pinning him with a look that said it was a bitter subject.

“See, you’re totally pissed at me. Why don’t you just get it out of your system?”

“There is  _ nothing _ in my system that I need to get out at  _ you _ .” He paused. “It’s not a fucking crime to need some time to yourself, Strider. If you want to make it up to me, just shut up and let’s watch a movie.” 

Karkat nudged the chair next to him meaningfully. It rolled over one of the smaller horns. In the ensuing silence, it sounded like a mouse getting quickly and brutally smothered to death. Karkat shot Dave one of his standard defensive scowls when Dave started laughing his cool, subdued laugh. 

“Seriously, dude, it’s like an old-timey bike horn manufacturer had a going-out-of-business sale in here. Where’d they even come from?

“Gamzee alchemized them originally,” Karkat finally replied with a frustrated bite as he picked up the offending horn. He tossed the horn back into the pile with a resigned gesture.

“I remember there were piles of them everywhere at first, but then they kinda disappeared.”

“We cleaned up most of them after he killed our friends.” Karkat said it in the same tone he said basically anything in, which was already almost dour enough to suit what he was saying. He really needed to lighten up lately. Dave felt a pang in his chest. He was not being a very good friend lately.

“Yeah, I heard. Why are you keeping his shit when he killed your friends?”

Karkat shrugged stiffly. “Maybe horns are just an objectively good pile material, have you ever thought about that? Can you just sit down and watch a movie with me, please?”

“No way, this is totally a thing. Why’re you hoarding Gamzee’s shit? Don’t tell me you’ve been doing the dirty with Murderclown McAsshole--”

“I don’t need to hear your baseless and  _ racist _ accusations, you  _ asshole _ !” Karkat’s voice grew to a crescendo to drown out Dave, who was himself still speaking at a barely-elevated speaking voice. That was as loud as he liked to get outside of maybe the vacuum of space.

“--who literally put the murder in murderclown, if half the shit I hear is true. What the actual fuck, dude?” Dave picked a horn up off the pile.  _ Yep, I’m definitely an asshole.  _

Karkat was fuming. “Oh, sure, this is great! Next time, how about we take this panmelting shit brigade over to your respiteblock and I can prod at the big pile of  _ hot, wet diseased hoofbeast shit  _ you have congealing right next to wherever your species puts its nugbone when it  _ sleeps. _ ” Karkat was practically snarling. Whoa, how had that happened? 

“Shit, you really are down with the clown--”

“Whatever digestion-bladder-turning nonsense you’re spouting over there, for the love of all that is decent in what is left of the fucking universe, fucking stop,” Karkat demanded like a beleagured school bus driver, stopping to catch his breath from his own intensity. 

Dave stared right at him, inscrutable and stonefaced, horn still in hand. The silence lasted a beat, then two.  _ Don’t do it, don’t you fucking dare!  _ Then Dave gave the horn a light, experimental honk.  _ Goddamnit, me. _

Karkat was on him, making some kind of growly exasperated battle noise, frond nubs going for the hand holding the horn. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dave instinctively raised his hand above his head, giving the horn a louder honk.

“Aw what? Couldn’t hear you, buddy.”

“Put that thing--” HONK. “-- _ down. _ ”

“Not until you tell me why your room looks like the noisemaker section of a gag factory, bro.”

“He  _ used to be _ my  _ moirail _ , you asshole.” Karkat was scowling. The scowl didn’t leave his face for a single word. “Can we  _ just watch the movie _ ?”

Dave just stared at him blankly as he let the horn be snatched from his lowered hand. Karkat created space between them instantly, putting the errant horn back in his pile. Dave thought about the word “mwa-ray.” He sort of knew what that word meant. He knew it was one of their weird quadrants, which meant it was a romance thing, but that it wasn’t one of the sex ones. So Gamzee used to be Karkat’s boyfriend, sort of, minus the most horrifying parts. Dave thought about what he knew about Karkat’s taste from movie night, and this definitely threw off the whole class average. 

“Or are you going to have some kind of  _ problem _ with this?”

Problem? What kind of problem? Karkat could be as gay for as many clowns as he wanted. Or friend-gay? Dave was sure he’d seen that quadrant in a troll movie at some point. He grasped for some frame of reference. He wanted to say that he didn’t have a problem with it, but the only thing he didn’t have a problem with was the fact that it was over. 

In hindsight, it was transparently shitty to say anything about this. Leave it to him to go from ghosting Karkat to swimming around in his literally bloody breakup memories. He was such a shitty friend. 

“Everyone’s got weird exes, dude,” Dave said, mostly to fill the silence left by not saying anything. “That was the kind of generalizable shit you used to be able to say back when there was an ‘everyone’ to talk about. Now I guess everyone is basically just whoever’s on this meteor, and to be honest I don’t go around polling everyone for lovelife gossip. Hatelife? Is that what you’d say, trollways?” Karkat was looking at him, not quite glaring anymore. He couldn’t quite identify what he saw on Karkat’s face. Maybe he would if Karkat were, y’know, a person. A human person. But as it stood, his skin was like a clay mask and his teeth were too long and his eyes were too big, and Dave had no idea how to read the subtle expression that passed over his features. “In any case, I don’t really know what a monorail is. The hug-it-out bro quadrant?”

“Moirail,” Karkat supplied testily. “Pale quadrant. There’s considerably more to it than just being ‘bros,’ as you put it. Normally I’d be thrilled that you’re showing any kind of interest in quadrants, Strider, but under the circumstances I feel like I need to repeat myself:  _ Can we please just watch a movie? _ ”

The moment that passed was awkward and long, and eventually Dave had to break the eye contact that Karkat seemed to be maintaining out of spite. 

“You can definitely do better, dude.” 

“ _ Dave _ .” He looked so exhausted Dave wondered if he should just go home, but he knew by now that if Karkat wanted him to leave he’d have said so himself.

Dave thought about it and tried again. 

“I forgot to bring a movie,” he finally said, honestly. “I guess that means it’s up to you.”

Karkat gave an acknowledging grunt, peeling off from their standoff to pull a movie from a stack near his pile. When he squinted, Dave could see that it was the human version of “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.” They’d watched it a couple of weeks ago, but Karkat was guilty of rewatching things until he had practically memorized them.

“More Matthew McConaughey?”

“Shut up, you love it.”

Dave shrugged, grateful for the normalcy in Karkat’s voice. “Yeah, I guess he’s pretty hot in that one.”

  
  
  


>Dave: Once again, try not to be the asshole this time.

  
  
  


\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 17:42 --

TG: hey

TG: hopefully youre not looking at trollian right now

TG: are you

TG: …

TG: okay good

TG: i just wanted to say something and you might actually get mad

TG: well actually

TG: two things

TG: one is cool the others a guaranteed vantass rage button

TG: anyway

TG: thanks for hanging out with me today

TG: i know mushy shit is against the bro code but you did me a favor

TG: like trying to talk to me and stuff

TG: you know what i mean

TG: im only saying that so you know this next part is authentic nonironic bro to bro sincerity

TG: yes its about the juggalo

TG: now im not trying to be an asshole

TG: actually im really trying to be less of an asshole than maybe i usually am here

TG: but that guys really bad news

TG: and imagining you sleeping surrounded by his shit every night is really goddamn sad

TG: like a kitten in the box in the goddamn rain

TG: with a little torn ear and a quivering kitten lip

TG: like previous unimagined amounts of pathos

TG: all im saying is

TG: would you want the mayor to see you like that??

TG: of course not

TG: the mayor knows whats up he wouldnt want you to succumb to post-juggalo depression

TG: anyway this is going off the rails and youre gonna look at your phone soon cause you dont fucking sleep

TG: my point is if you need anyone to help you clean horns out of your room im your guy

TG: i will be there with like a giant leafblower strapped to my back

TG: blowing horns away and down the street to pam and toms front yard

TG: sorry neighbor

TG: these are your problem now

TG: would that make it a hornblower??

TG: that sounds like a dirty troll thing

TG: wow im tired

TG: im gonna go to bed and stop giving you ammo for when you give me your daily verbal smackdown

TG: peace

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 17:47 --

  
  


\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 17:48 --

TG: fuck i meant to say

TG: we could talk about it if you want

TG: i mean i dont get troll shit so you could tell me whatever you want and i probably wont get it

TG: so i cant really judge or anything

TG: friendways or whatever

TG: anyway gnight

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 17:48 --

  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:44 --

CG: …

CG: GAMZEE WAS BASICALLY A TICKING TIMEBOMB.

CG: HE WAS MY RESPONSIBILITY AND I FAILED AND MY FRIENDS PAID THE PRICE.

CG: AND NOW VRISKA WON’T LET ME TALK TO HIM.

CG: SHE SAYS SHE DOESN’T WANT HIM IN ANYONE’S QUADRANTS.

CG: LIKE THAT’S HER DECISION. 

CG: ANYWAY OUR MOIRALLEGIANCE IS OVER AND HAVING HIS SHIT IN MY PILE IS NOT A GOOD LOOK AND I GUESS EVEN AN ALIEN CAN SEE IT.

CG: I JUST WISH I COULD HAVE KEPT HIM CALM AND HAPPY LIKE I WAS SUPPOSED TO.

CG: I SHOULD HAVE TRIED HARDER. 

CG: BUT MAYBE THERE’S A DOOMED VERSION OF ME THAT TRIED HARDER AND SAVED EVERYONE TEMPORARILY ONLY FOR ALL OF US TO DIE BECAUSE OF DOUBLE-REACH-AROUND PREDESTINATION INSANITY.

CG: AND THE ONLY WAY TO STAY ALIVE TILL THE END IS TO BE UNBELIEVABLY SHITTY AND MEDIOCRE THE WHOLE TIME AND LET YOUR MOIRAIL DOWN.

CG: SO MAYBE FEELING GUILTY IS STUPID BUT HERE WE FUCKING ARE.

CG: I’M BEING A FUCKHEAD.

CG: IT’S A GOOD THING YOU’RE NOT REPLYING RIGHT NOW.

CG: THIS IS PROBABLY ABOUT AS INTIMATE AS I WANT TO GET ABOUT THIS WITH YOU.

CG: I JUST GOT OUT OF THAT TRAINWRECK WITH GAMZEE AND I’M STILL PRETTY RAW.

CG: I GUESS NOT “JUST” BUT IT STILL FEELS PRETTY RECENT.

CG: NOT THAT YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT AND THAT PROBABLY SOUNDED LIKE SOME KIND OF RIDICULOUS HUMAN INNUENDO TO YOU.

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT, CAN WE JUST STRIKE THIS ONE FROM THE RECORD?

CG: THANKS FOR ASKING ABOUT MY FUCKING FEELINGS.

CG: SORRY I’M SUCH A FLAMING TOOL.

CG: BYE.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:51 --

  
  
  


>Dave: Still manage to be the asshole.

  
  
  


By the time Dave saw Karkat’s messages, he was on the other end of a healthy eight hours of minimally-interrupted sleep. His heart jumped in his throat and he found himself immensely relieved that Karkat gave him an out on responding to this. What had he even been thinking, messing around in a troll’s quadrant stuff? 

The previous night it had seemed like an obviously necessary thing to comment on, but when it came down to it, Dave had no idea what a monorail actually did in real life. He’d seen pale stuff in that one troll movie, but it just seemed like friendship with extra steps. There was no way he understood well enough to criticize, much less offer actual friendship-style emotional support. Dave literally had no idea on this one. 

His best friend had been gay troll super-besties with a juggalo who had literally murdered several of his closest friends. There was probably no topping that as far as oddly-specific mind-warping traumatic bullshit went. And it didn’t sound like Karkat wanted an actual conversation about it as much as he was probably just responding to Dave’s needless peer pressure.

He had no idea what could possibly be intimate about talking about Karkat’s ex, but Dave chalked it up to alien weirdness. He could explain a lot of his feelings about the whole situation by just chalking it up to alien weirdness. That was really all there was to say on the matter. 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 02:34 --

TG: hey

TG: sorry i overslept

TG: i gotta grab a bite to eat before i hit cantown

TG: tell the mayor im coming if you see him first

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 02:34 --

  
  
  


>==>

PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 11.2%

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should add some clarity to the situation, or needlessly complicate it. It's written, so expect it soon.
> 
> Still open to a beta-reader for this mess I'm cobbling together. Also open to formatting advice, because everything seems to change when I paste the chapter into AO3's hungry text field of madness.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's commented, bookmarked, or kudos'd this fic! Y'all make it worth it.


	4. >Karkat: Cope poorly with the panwarping trauma of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Karkat being super harsh to himself and general traumatized teen stuff.

<==<

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 2.8%

  
  
  


>Karkat: Cope poorly with the panwarping trauma of it all.

  
  
  


In the endless abyss of paradox space, on a cold and hateful prison of a meteor, on a messy pile of horns, Karkat was miserable. His bloodpusher pounded as rage and fear coursed through him like a transfusion straight from the horrorterrors. He could feel it pulsing in his head and horns, he could taste the bitterness of hate in his throat. He withdrew in on himself, willing the entirety of existence to just stop. He’d fallen asleep in his pile again instead of getting in his recuperacoon like a normal, reasonable fucking troll. Then he’d decided to talk to the most obnoxious person of all fucking time about it. Ever since their journey to the new session had started, this kept fucking happening.

Curled up in the dim light on his pile of hard metal edges and shame, Karkat held his palmhusk as if trying to destroy it in his grip. But he still had to deal with the consequences of his own shitty decision-making. 

He hated his past self so fucking much.

  
  
  


PAST carcinoGeneticist [CCG] 01:10 hours ago opened a memo on board HOLY FUCK THESE IDIOTIC NUGFUCKERS ARE GOING TO MAKE ME KILL MYSELF LONG BEFORE JACK GETS A CHANCE

PCG: FUCK OKAY I KNOW THIS IS STUPID.

PCG: AND “NO MORE MEMOS” OR WHATEVER.

PCG: BUT I JUST SLEPT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN WEEKS

PCG: AND WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?

CURRENT carcinoGeneticist RIGHT NOW responded to memo.

CCG: UGH

CCG: WHY THE FUCK DID I THINK THIS WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA?

CCG: JUST FUCKING SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR STUPID FUCKING DAY TERRORS.

CCG: NOBODY IS SLEEPING WELL AND YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL.

PCG: DUDE FUCK YOU.

PCG: WHY CAN’T I EVER HAVE A LITTLE FUCKING EMPATHY?

PCG: YOU WERE LITERALLY ME.

PCG: YOU *LITERALLY* KNOW *EXACTLY* HOW I FEEL.

CCG: MOTHERFUCKER PLEASE.

CCG: DON’T GIVE YOURSELF SO MUCH FUCKING CREDIT.

PCG: GOD YOU ARE SERIOUSLY THE WORST, YOU KNOW THAT?

PCG: THE HORRORTERRORS ARE ONE THING, BUT FUTURE ME IS BASICALLY THE MOST SADISTIC AND HEINOUS PIECE OF SHIT I EVER HAD THE FUCKING DISPLEASURE OF HACKING UP CONVERSATION HAIRBALLS WITH.

PCG: I JUST HAD A FUCKING NIGHTMARE THAT FELT LIKE HAVING MY PAN PULLED OUT THROUGH MY FUCKING BULBSOCKETS.

PCG: AND THIS CONVERSATION IS ALREADY THE WORST THING TO FUCKING HAPPEN TODAY.

CCG: MAYBE THIS’LL TEACH ME TO QUIT REACHING FOR THE MASTURBATORY RAGE FEATURE OF TROLLIAN EVERY TIME I HAVE A BAD FUCKING DREAM.

PCG: UGH STOP

PCG: IT IS NOT FUCKING LIKE THAT AND YOU KNOW IT

CCG: GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE FUCKING GUTTER.

PCG: I’M NOT THE ONE WHO BROUGHT UP MASTURBATING.

CCG: JEGUS FUCKING CHRIST.

CCG: YOU MAKE ME WANT TO THROW MYSELF OFF THIS FUCKING HUNK OF TRASH.

CCG. YOU KNOW WHAT, MAYBE I WILL.

CCG. INSTEAD OF SITTING IN HERE CLOSING THESE RIDICULOUS FUCKING TIME LOOPS, I CAN JUST GO OFF AND FUCKING THROW MYSELF OUT OF AN AIRLOCK.

PCG: YEAH RIGHT.

PCG: DO WE EVEN HAVE A FUCKING AIRLOCK?

CCG: DO WE?

CCG: MAYBE YOU’LL FIND OUT.

CCG banned PCG from responding to memo. 

CCG closed memo.

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


Karkat pushed himself from his desk, teeth grinding together, absolutely seething. All his conversations with himself were going about this well these days. He stood to start pacing, anything to get the aggression out. He kicked his recuperacoon, he stomped the floor. His foot landed on the metal part of a horn and he threw it at the wall. He almost wished there actually _was_ an airlock, or that that was even how space worked out here. 

Eventually, he had to come to the conclusion that tiring himself out like this was only making him hungrier. Eventually, he found himself leaving his block.

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 2.8%

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 11.1%

  
  


>Karkat: Seek the Knight of Blood. 

  
  


CURRENT carcinoGeneticist [CCG] RIGHT NOW opened a memo on board HOLY FUCK THESE IDIOTIC NUGFUCKERS ARE GOING TO MAKE ME KILL MYSELF LONG BEFORE JACK GETS A CHANCE

  
  


CCG: OKAY SO.

CCG: HOPEFULLY YOU DON’T IMMEDIATELY GO APESHIT ON ME.

CCG: HOPEFULLY I CAN CATCH YOU IN THE FUTURE WHEN YOU WON’T BE TOO MUCH OF A COLOSSAL PIECE OF SHIT TO ANSWER ME ONE SIMPLE FUCKING QUESTION:

CCG: IS DAVE FUCKING OKAY?

FUTURE carcinoGeneticist [FCG] ???? HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FCG: YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T BE DOING THIS, DUDE.

CCG: HA HA SPARE ME THE FUCKING ETHICAL DEBATE.

CCG: MY NEXT FUCKING IDEA IS TO GO LOOKING FOR HIS BLOCK MYSELF TO MAKE SURE SOMEONE’S THERE TO COLLECT THE FUCKING BODY.

FUTURE turntechGodhead [FTG] ???? HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FTG: dude

FTG: im fine just chill

CCG: DAVE??

CCG: WHAT THE FUCK.

CCG: ARE YOU OKAY?

FCG: I TOLD YOU YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE OPENED THIS MEMO.

FTG: yeah seriously

FTG: and im fine man

FTG: time travel is serious business

FTG: Serious Business

FTG: not to mention talking to yourself all the time is hells of unhealthy dude

FCG: THIS COMING FROM YOU.

CCG: THAT’S RICH COMING FROM YOU.

FTG: oh fuck theres two of you

FTG: okay im not doing this

FTG: current karkles chill out

FTG has banned CCG from the memo.

FTG: past karkles also just chill out

FTG: ill come out when im ready

CCG: WHAT THE FUCK, STRIDER?

CCG: I HAVEN’T HEARD FROM YOU IN LIKE A WEEK. I’M ACTUALLY FUCKING *WORRIED*. 

CCG: AND YOU THINK I’M JUST GOING TO NOT FUCKING WORRY ABOUT IT BECAUSE IN THE FUTURE EVERYTHING’S ALL FUCKING HUNKY DORY?

FTG: no

FTG: youre gonna do whatever you were always gonna do

FTG: thats how this shit works and thats why this memo thing is bullshit

FTG: but i guess i can see how from your perspective im being an asshole right now

FTG: leaving you on read and stuff

FTG: which is admittedly a dick move

FTG: anyway thanks for cutting me slack about it

FTG: its really cool of you

CCG: WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT?

CCG: I AM FUCKING FURIOUS.

CCG: YOU MEAN YOU’VE ACTUALLY BEEN READING MY MESSAGES?

CCG: AND YOU JUST LEFT THE MAYOR IN THE DARK??

CCG: THE MAYOR, DAVE.

FTG: yeah ok not to play the timeline card but

FTG: the mayor and i are cool

FTG: so lay off

CCG: YOU SMUG ASSHOLE.

CCG: WHATEVER.

CCG: CLEARLY YOU’RE FINE.

CCG: ANYTHING ELSE I NEED TO KNOW, O WISE FUTURE DAVE?

FTG: dude

FTG: dont call me that

FTG: but i already said

FTG: just like ask me to come over and watch a movie or something

FTG: normal friend shit

CCG: “NORMAL FRIEND SHIT.”

FTG: pretty much

FTG: sorry dude i gotta go

FTG: gotta clean up more of your mess

FTG: just chill dude

FTG: you seriously gotta find some chill.

FTG closed memo.

Karkat sat there, staring at the screen in confused outrage. 

It was some time before he found any chill.

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 11.1 % 

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 14.6%

  
  
  


>Karkat: Look for ways to cope with the consequences of falling asleep in a pile.

  
  
  


CURRENT carcinoGeneticist [CCG] RIGHT NOW opened a memo on board HOLY FUCK THESE IDIOTIC NUGFUCKERS ARE GOING TO MAKE ME KILL MYSELF LONG BEFORE JACK GETS A CHANCE

CCG: FUCK

CCG: SO BEFORE ANYONE FUCKING DOES ANYTHING

CCG: STRIDER

CCG: IF YOU ARE GOING TO SHOVE YOUR STUPID FACE INTO THIS CONVERSATION AND START SPEWING YOUR DUMB OPINIONS FROM YOUR RIDICULOUS LIPS, DO IT NOW.

CCG: OKAY WELL

CCG: IF I’M STILL TALKING TO ME IT WOULD BE COOL IF I COULD BE LESS OF AN ASSHOLE THIS TIME.

CCG: FUCK

CCG: LITERALLY EVERY TIME I TRY TO SLEEP, THIS IS THE SHIT I GET.

CCG: ISN’T SOPOR SLIME SUPPOSED TO FUCKING DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT?

CCG: IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH THIS ALCHEMIZED SHIT OR IS IT JUST ME?

CCG: FUCK

CCG: I FUCKING HATE IT HERE

CCG: AND I FUCKING HATE DREAMING ABOUT ALL MY DEAD FRIENDS.

CCG: AND I FUCKING HATE YOU FOR WHATEVER SELF-DEPRECATION BORDERLINE-ABUSIVE HOOFBEAST SHIT YOU ARE ABOUT TO SPRAY ALL OVER YOUR FUCKING CHOSEN COMPUTING DEVICE. 

FUTURE turntechGodhead [FTG] ??? HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FTG: yo

FTG: lets do this

CCG: OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

CCG: OKAY NO

CCG: I’M DONE HERE.

FTG: yeah no

FTG: you just told me this one was going to be kind of a production

CCG: I FUCKING SAID WHAT?

CCG: AM I THERE WITH ME?

CCG: DID THAT ASSHOLE PUT YOU UP TO THIS???

FTG: uh wow thats really how you talk about yourself right there

FTG: not gonna lie dude that is telling

CCG: HOW ABOUT I TELL YOU TO GO FUCK YOURSELF WITH YOUR OWN SWOLLEN ARROGANCE GLAND AND THEN YOU ANSWER MY QUESTIONS.

FTG: see theres no way thats a real gland

CCG: IS MY FUTURE SELF THERE WITH YOU?

FTG: nope

FTG: he made it sound like kind of a big thing and then he peaced out

FTG: doesnt look like hes in this one

FTG: and he didnt put me up to anything

FTG: but also i kinda didnt have a choice

FTG: i didnt know i was going to reply until karkat told me

FTG: but if it happened at all then i probably would have done it anyway

FTG: like if youd opened the loop but never told me i probably would have seen the memo at the same time anyway

FTG: i think

FTG: closed time loops are tricky

CCG: THANKS FOR THE TOTALLY UNNECESSARY SCHOOLFEEDING ON THE TIME TRAVEL RAMIFICATIONS OF THESE MEMOS. 

FTG: which is why i fucking hate that you do this

FTG: i cant believe you managed to keep it from me so long

FTG: like i guess its on me for not checking

FTG: but this shit is dangerous

FTG: and this is the last time were doing this

FTG: but you seemed like you were freaking out about something

FTG: you had a bad dream??

CCG: …

CCG: NO FUCKING WAY. I AM NOT TALKING TO YOU ABOUT MY DAY TERRORS FEATURING THE WRETCHED EVENTS OF MY LIFE SO FAR.

CCG: THIS IS HUMILIATING ENOUGH IF IT ENDS HERE.

FTG: yeah but you still wanna tell me

FTG: nothings ever stopped you from throwing a tantrum

FTG: and i saw how long this memo was before i started typing

FTG: so spill

CCG: THIS IS FUCKING DEMEANING.

FTG: come on dude

FTG: you know you can talk to me about anything right

CCG: SINCE FUCKING WHEN?

FTG: dude youre breaking my heart

FTG: you know were bros

CCG: STOP.

CCG: I’M SERIOUS, STOP THAT RIGHT NOW. 

FTG: im just saying dude

FTG: i wish youd talk to me and not done this weird time memo thing

FTG: or else its gonna be can town all over again

CCG: WHAT

CCG: WHAT HAPPENED TO CAN TOWN??

CCG: IS THE MAYOR OKAY?

FTG: oops

FTG: hes fine

FTG: everythings fine

FTG: it wasnt even a thing dude no big deal

FTG: like seriously dont worry about it

CCG: YEAH, THAT ISN’T SUSPICIOUS AT ALL. 

CCG: YOU’RE REALLY NAILING THIS CONVERSATION YOU INSISTED NEEDED TO BE AT LEAST THIS LONG.

FTG: i wasnt the one who started spilling his feelings across time

FTG: but seriously dude im lowkey kinda worried

FTG: and you seemed ok on this end of things but like

FTG: is past-you ok over there??

CCG: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK, STRIDER??

CCG: TEREZI’S SPENDING ALL HER TIME WITH VRISKA AND KANAYA’S GETTING BUSY WITH LALONDE.

FTG: ew do you have to say it like that

CCG: AND *YOU* ARE AN *ASSHOLE* WHO CAN’T KEEP YOUR STUPID NARCISSISTIC MOUTH OUT OF MY PERSONAL FUCKING BUSINESS.

FTG: ok first off you need to stop talking about my mouth

FTG: that was the second time

CCG: FUCK YOU. 

FTG: second of all maybe i just want to be up in your business

FTG: like obviously someone needs to be

FTG: i mean what even is this

CCG: THIS

CCG: IS THE BIGGEST COSMIC JOKE OF A SHIT PILE I’VE STEPPED IN SO FAR.

CCG: YOU ASSCOCKED FUCKING SHIT GOBLIN.

CCG: DOES MASTERY OF TIME TRAVEL MAKE IT ANY EASIER TO GO BACK AND REALIZE WHAT A FUCKING DOUCHE YOU ARE?

FTG: uh

CCG: OR DO YOU HAVE A BLIND SPOT ANYWHERE THAT WOULD BE REMOTELY HELPFUL FOR ANY REAL CHARACTER FUCKING DEVELOPMENT? 

CCG: BECAUSE WE’VE WATCHED BACK TO THE FUTURE EIGHT FUCKING TIMES, STRIDER. I’M SICK OF IT, AND YOU MAKE A *SHITTY* SUBSTITUTE FOR MICHAEL J. FOX. 

FTG: wow

FTG: are you mad at me specifically 

FTG: or is this just what youre like in these things i forget

CCG: FUCK YOU, I’M SERIOUS.

CCG: WHERE DO YOU GET OFF SHOVING YOUR STUPID HUMAN FACE INTO MY PERSONAL CONVERSATIONS WITH MYSELF?

CCG: AT LEAST I DON’T TAKE ALL MY SHIT OUT ON THE MAYOR.

CCG: NEWSFLASH DAVE: ***HE DOESN’T LIKE IT.***

FTG: excuse me

CCG: HE DOESN’T EVEN *GET IT.*

CCG: SOMEHOW OUT OF YOUR LIMITED SELECTION OF OPTIONS YOU STILL PICKED THE WORST POSSIBLE FUCKING PALEMATE.

CCG: I ALMOST PITY HIM JUST FOR HAVING TO DEAL WITH YOUR PITY, STRIDER.

FTG: what are you fucking talking about

FTG: youre just throwing down bc you know im right these memos are toxic

FTG: shit what shit

FTG: i dont got anything to take out anywhere

FTG: shit-free vessel right here

FTG: the mayor and i are tight no shit between us

CCG: MOTHERFUCKER YOU ARE A SHIT FACTORY. A SHIT GEYSER. A SHIT VOLCANO.

FTG: dude please

FTG: what did you mean take it out on the mayor

FTG: the mayor loves me

CCG: OH NO, FUCK THIS.

CCG: ASK FUTURE ME IF YOU WANT TO KNOW.

CCG: LET THAT ASSHOLE BE GOOD FOR SOMETHING.

FTG: ok i will

FTG: but you need to not talk about yourself that way bro

FTG: youre being a dick but this hate-memo thing isnt good for anyone

CCG: *WOW* WHAT AN INSIGHT!!

CCG: I FUCKING GET THE PICTURE, STRIDER.

FTG: do you though

FTG: because this is the second memo ive had to intervene on

CCG: I HOPE BY THE TIME I GET TO YOUR POINT ON THE TIMELINE, I REMEMBER TO FLIP YOU OFF AGAIN FOR THIS TROUGH OF SHIT YOU’VE CONTRIBUTED TO WITH YOUR “INTERVENTION.”

FTG: weirdly you didnt

FTG: maybe because you get that im trying to be your friend

CCG: OR MAYBE I JUST REMEMBERED YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE AND THERE’S NO POINT WASTING THE ENERGY.

FTG: yeah ok

FTG: i think were about done here

FTG: dont go off on present me after this btw

FTG: you dont fill me in on any of this until like half an hour ago my time

CG: WHAT?

FTG: yeah i guess you were waiting for me to ask you about it directly

FTG: which sounds more like a you thing than a time loop thing

FTG: but yeah thats all you need to know

FTG: k bye

FTG has closed memo.

Karkat stared at the screen for several actual minutes. He could actually feel the anger flooding his body, fighting with the deep unplugged wellspring of shame, and blending to turn into this immense, unthinkably powerful will to shrink in on himself and disappear. If he were endowed with any god tier powers that let him disappear--maybe something in the void category, or John’s bullshit windy thing--he’d already be an afterthought in the timeline’s pursuit of alpha status. 

Things being what they were, Karkat could still slide down in his seat. He could still press his hands to his eyes until the darkness looked like static. He could still cringe at himself, physically cringe, so hard that it actually hurt. What in the actual fuck had he gone and done _that_ for? That had been the absolute opposite of how he had wanted to talk to Dave about his many myriad issues. Avoiding it this long only to lose his shit all over some far-off future Dave was just… definitely not conciliatory. Not that they were doing that. But human friends were basically always conciliatory at each other, and by that or any other interpretation, Karkat still had an obligation not to throw a cross-timeline fit. 

He tried to take a few deep breaths. This wasn’t ideal. _Fuck_ how did he manage to fuck up the same way twice with two different humans? Had he somehow planned this, as his past self, as some elaborate method of self-sabotage?

Karkat let his head fall against his husktop keyboard. He felt a gnawing pain radiating out from just in front of his horns. _Fuck_ . Dave wouldn’t even know this had happened for a _while_. Somehow, he was just supposed to just let it go until then. How was he supposed to let it go?

  
  
  


>Karkat: Try to maybe let it go.

  
  
  


Eventually, when he thought he was calm and ready, when deep breaths and distractions had soothed some of the pain in his pan, Karkat stood up. It was about time to go to Can Town anyway.

  
  


>Dave: Enjoy some alien bro time with your favorite alien bros.

“Dude, in all sincerity, I think our banners keep getting better every time we make them.”

“Fuck yeah they do.” Karkat sounded distracted, which he always did when he was drawing.

“I mean, I love the Mayor, but he’s more civic planning and less civic beautification, you know? I’m lookin’ at you, Mayor!”--the Mayor thrusted an enthusiastic thumbs up from his post stacking cans behind Karkat-- “That’s right you cute little Mayor. Who’s awesome at delegating tasks? You are! Yes you are!”

“Dave, stop shouting in my hear flaps. I have a headache.”

“I’m not _shouting_.” He sat back on his heels, looking over his section of Sweet Bros and Hella Jeffs on parade. Hell yes. If only Bro could see him now, setting the artistic standard for post-apocalyptic human art. Dave liked to think of it as something of a calling to bring as much of his hilarious ironic bullshit from Earth with him to the meteor as he could. He couldn’t do it around Rose or she’d make him explain, but Karkat seemed to be happy to let him do his thing.

As if to defy him, Karkat was frowning when Dave looked up at him. He squinted at the mess of colors and lines on Dave’s half of the banner, and eventually his frown resolved into an exasperated grimace. 

“You got some critical artistic opinions to lay on me, bro? I’m all ears. Rap your questions and concerns, let’s go, but you know, yeah, that our artistic collab here is fresher than my words in your ears or an Alternian thresher--”

“Is it fucking upside-down?” Karkat finally said, bafflingly immune to Dave’s sick raps. Dave supposed that hadn’t been A-side material anyway.

“--whatever the fuck a thresher is,” Dave finished in his normal speaking voice. He examines the banner and sees that, whatever strange post-modern mess Karkat was working on, it did technically seem to be of an opposite orientation to Dave's artistic opus. He nodded his approval. “Heck yeah, that’s even better. Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff on an upside down parade. Our Strider-Vantas collab pieces have been _rad_. Like the Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre of ironic can-related banners. We’re defining a genre, bro.”

“No, you idiot. It makes no sense. We’ll have to cut it and tape it back together, or something.”

“C’mon, dude, leave it. Call it an artistic choice. I don’t rag on you for whatever you’ve got going on over there.”

“What exactly is wrong with my drawings?!”

“Well, can we start with what the fuck are they?” Dave stepped over the banner and scooted up next to Karkat to get a better look. “Just, like, big oblong balls?”

“They’re the _citizens_ of _Can Town_ ,” Karkat spat indignantly. “That’s what cans _look_ like. You think you can do better, be my goddamn guest.” Oh shit, really? Okay then, Karkles...

Dave looked at the cans, looked at the marker in Karkat’s hand, and he knew what he had to do. “I’ll show you what a can looks like, dude.” Dave grabbed a marker off the floor and started drawing his own “can citizens” in Karkat’s parade. 

He didn’t get far before Karkat’s hands were on his, which prompted his other hand to join the fray for control of the marker. 

“Fuck you, _Strider_ , this is _my side_ of the fucking _banner!_ Keep your perverted human jokes to your side!”

“You said to be your guest, I’m gettin’ comfy,” returned Dave smoothly, guiding the marker better once one of Karkat’s hands hands broke free. He managed to draw a few good lines and curves before getting a disruptive elbow to the stomach. He retaliated by taking a hand off the marker and shoving at Karkat’s head, which Karkat responded to by going for Dave’s hair.

“Get the fuck _off!_ You don’t even know what you’re fucking doing!” 

“I’m drawin’ the citizens of Can Town.”

“ _You are drawing human bulges everywhere.”_

“That’s not me, bro.”

“Who else could it possibly fucking _be_?”

Another shaky cock appeared on the page over Karkat’s efforts. 

“Seems to me like we got ourselves a poltergeist,” Dave managed to deadpan, limbs straining to hold the stalemate, to control the artistic process.

“Get off of me!”

“No way, man, I’m all-in on this collab.”

_“Do I need to explain this to you again?_ ” Karkat yelled uncomfortably close to his ear. “Get off of me this fucking instant, I do _not_ feel that way about you!” 

That did it. 

If it had been some random jerk he was wrestling with human beatdown-style, Dave would have just let him have his weird alien hate-gay vibes and kept up his game of penis ouija. But something about potentially giving Karkat the wrong idea sat badly in his gut and made it gurgle. Besides, when Karkat put it that way, Dave sort of got what he meant. He didn’t like to admit it, but the troll romcoms were starting to get in his thinkpan. 

“Jegus, Dave, are you fucking happy now? We’re going to have to start over.”

“What?? No, dude, this is our Sistine fuckin’ Chapel. Tourists gonna see this hundreds of years later and take shittily-framed pics of all these original Strider-Vantas dicks. I mean, shit, you know what I mean. Not like our dicks. These dicks.” Dave pointed at the banner, staring down two wide-eyed aliens. “Right here.”

“What is even _wrong_ with you?! You talk about us fucking _collaborating_ and you just end up hijacking the whole thing and making it fucking _terrible_!”

“Nah, this is so much better. C’mon, dude, it’s hilarious.”

“I thought we were doing this for the Mayor!”

“The Mayor totally appreciates our ironic masterpiece. Right, little bro?” 

The Mayor shrugged helplessly. _Way to back me up, dude._

“ _Ironic_??” Karkat spat with superb indignation. Whoa, defcon 5 over here, Karkat’s about to blow. Little fast there, but nothing entirely new. Poor dude must’ve gotten out of his alien slime pod a little too fast.

“Dude, chill, we can draw a new banner,” Dave tried to backpedal. 

“No! I’m fucking _done_ \--” Karkat brought his arms up in preparation for an exagerrated gesture. “...with your nookhuffing ironic _trash art!_ ”

And that’s when Karkat flailed and took out all the Mayor’s hard work, sending cans clattering to the floor in a pile. The Mayor stood back, hands drawn into his own chest, worry and alarm across his face. Karkat, for his part, cycled through anger, instant regret, and self-deprecating rage. He hoisted himself up to his feet, tensed horns to nubs.

‘“There, look, I fucking _ironically_ ruined everything! Look how much _irony_ I scraped off my bulge all over this _monument to all that is insufferable!!_ How fucking hilarious! HA HA HA HA HA!”

Dave watched Karkat rant as he absconded dramatically, feet stomping. He got like this when he was embarrassed. Or angry, or just too hungry. One time, when Dave was trying to pay him a compliment. So for any reason, really, but usually there was less property damage.

He thought he ought to go after him. Karkat was bound to burn himself out soon, and then he was going to feel like shit for freaking out around the Mayor. Who wouldn’t.

But the Mayor was on the floor with a can in each hand and a look of utter distress on his face, so Dave stayed to pick up the pieces instead.

  
  
  


>Dave: Do the other kind of damage control.

  
  
  


\--turntechGodhead [TG] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 09:17--

TG: hey

CG: HOW’S THE MAYOR?

TG: hes fine

TG: i think hes already over it

TG: i got him excited about rebuilding and he tuckered himself out

CG: DO YOU THINK HE’S MAD AT ME?

TG: dude its the mayor

TG: i dont think he holds grudges

CG: IF YOU SAY SO.

TG: what about you

TG: get it out of your system

TG: flail around in your own block maybe

CG: SHUT UP. 

CG: I ALREADY FEEL BAD AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE AN ASSHOLE.

TG: i guess not

TG: for real are you ok

TG: never seen you get that bent outta shape about a can town thing

TG: kinda went 0 to 60 on me there

TG: one minute we were going for a sunday drive the next were screeching out a fucking nascar pit stop

TG: you fall asleep outside your space cocoon or something

CG: HOW AND WHERE I SLEEP IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, BUT MY RECUPERACOON IS PERFECTLY FUNCTIONAL.

CG: AND I AM COMPLETELY FUCKING CAPABLE OF USING IT.

CG: AND IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH WHAT HAPPENED IN CAN TOWN.

CG: WHAT HAPPENED IN CAN TOWN WAS AN ACCIDENT CAUSED BY *YOU* BEING A DOUCHE.

CG: THAT IS ALL THERE FUCKING IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

TG: dude whats going on

TG: you know you can tell me

CG: SINCE FUCKING WHEN?

TG: come on dont be like that

TG: were bros

CG: I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

CG: I WAS BEING STUPID. IT WASN’T REALLY ABOUT YOU.

TG: yeah i dunno about that

TG: but i guess its none of my business

TG: btw the mayor said we both have to help him rebuild tomorrow

CG: MAN HE’S THE BEST.

CG: I SHOULD BRING HIM SOME GRUB SNACKS OR SOMETHING.

TG: but hes putting you on stacking duty and me on marker duty

CG: OH FUCK THAT.

CG: LIKE I TRUST YOU TO SPEAK FOR THE MAYOR.

CG: LET’S JUST SEE WHAT HE SAYS TOMORROW.

TG: lol

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 14.7%

  
  
  


>Karkat: Be on stacking duty.

  
  
  


_Damn it._

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 14.7%

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta reader Wertiyurae for looking over this for me!
> 
> Next chapter coming soon.


	5. >Karkat: Consider the alien factor.

<==<

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 12.1%

  
  
  


>Karkat: Consider the alien factor. 

  
  
  


“...Yeah, and it was called a quesarito, and it was literally the best fucking thing humans ever invented. If I had to name one big regret in my life before the game, it was not eating enough quesarito. Every meal that could’ve been a quesarito--dude, seriously, Karkat? I could  _ weep  _ about how fucking tragic it is that I didn’t eat a quesarito a day while I could.  _ Weep. _ ” 

“It sounds fucking disgusting, but I assume that’s normal for mammal feed.”

“From what I saw, kinda, but I never left Texas.”

Karkat swapped his blue chalk for a piece of purple and began outlining a fresh road by the new and improved Tab River.

“Texas?” he prompted, when Dave didn’t continue.

“Oh, that’s just this place on Earth.” Dave shrugged, eyes trained on the pad of paper in his lap. He was supposed to be drawing trees to cut out later. “There were a lot more important places.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, man, I never went. The Taj Mahal? Canada? Honestly, I never thought about any of that till it was gone.” Dave paused and seemed to consider the image on the page, then switched to a different marker color. “Not that it matters anymore, but I’m kinda wishing I’d traveled more.”

Karkat gave a derisive laugh. “Why? If you had everything you needed, why would you have needed to go anywhere else? It’s not like you ever ‘travel’ around the meteor like Terezi and Vriska.”

“Didn’t you ever go anywhere outside of whatever troll nest you lived in?”

“My hive was more than sufficient.” Karkat responded a touch defensively. “My lusus and I were comfortable enough.”

Dave gave a classic subdued Strider smirk. “So it was just you and this big ol’ crab watching romcoms all day?”

Karkat shrugged, adjusting his grip on the chalk. “You don’t watch movies with your lusus. They don’t have any interest in that kind of thing. Or at least, mine didn’t, but what the fuck do I know about what’s normal.”

“Man, that’s kinda crazy to think about.”

“What is?”

“We’re basically the resident experts in the room about our home planets, but we were both total fucking shut-ins when we lived there. It blows my mind that all you got to go off of when it comes to Earth stuff is the half-cocked bullshit I still remember. I mean, I’m one of the last of my kind now, right? And I’m basically the worst fucking Earth ambassador I can think of, if this was a more normal sci-fi thing. It’s actually hilarious.” 

Karkat put down his chalk and looked at Dave. He’d said that with the same tone he’d use to describe his process on alchemizing new combinations of salted chips. He hadn’t even looked up from what he was doing.

“That’s fucking depressing, dude.”

“No. It’s irony at its finest.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The way I see it, there were all these interesting people living totally cool lives, doing super cool things. Maybe curing diseases or flying fighter jets, that kind of thing. And they thought they were hot shit, all climbing the escheladder of human radness till it was like ‘paging Dr. Hot Shit, you’re needed in the ICU, 500 CCs of worldly competence straight in the ass, coming right up.’ But it turned out that everything was rigged to blow up from the start, and nothing they were doing ever mattered in the first place.” Dave changed markers again. “That’s some cosmic irony right there.”

Karkat thought about that for a moment while he moved a little closer to Dave to continue the road. “I guess I can see that. Like I always wanted to be a threshecutioner, but now there are no more threshecutioners. They couldn’t make it out alive, but somehow I did. And there was no fucking way they’d ever let me be a threshecutioner in the first place, so in a way, I showed those fuckers.”

“Yeah you did, bro. We all showed those fuckers.”

They colored in silence for a few more minutes. Karkat waited to see if Dave was done, or if he had more thoughts to share. He knew better than to ask. The most sincere conversations with Dave Strider were the ones he didn’t have to be self-aware about.

“It’s pretty weird,” Dave finally said, “that we’re bros and all but you have no idea what Taco Bell is. Or, like, you’ve never seen the sun, shit like that. Sometimes that shit weirds me out more than the fact that y’all are literally a pack of quasi-murderous grey aliens.”

“Please,” Karkat snorted. “What do you think it’s like having to look at your fragile pasty walking corpse? I can literally see your goddamn blood tubes in your frond nubs.”

“So?”

“I’m just saying, there’s a lot that’s fucked up about this situation. We’re literally from different planets. I’m fucking shocked we have  _ this  _ much in common.”

“Yeah,” Dave said, and Karkat realized his marker wasn’t moving against the paper anymore. He looked up to catch Dave staring at him, but he could only tell because of the telltale jerk of his head as they made eye contact. He really did look so weird, and the shades didn’t help, but that wasn’t the real issue. He thought back to the breakdown he’d witnessed. He had no idea what humans were like with their feelings, and it was an unnerving uncertainty. 

“It is fucked up,” Dave continued after a moment, and he continued drawing trees. Karkat waited, but this time he was done.

  
  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 15.4%

  
  
  


>Karkat: Find the Knight of Time.

  
  
  


Karkat hadn’t seen Dave in a few days, but he knew better than to get too hung up on it these days. Naturally it was disconcerting, and the Mayor worried, and he trolled Dave even though there was no response to be had. But there was only so much trolling he could do, and they were passing through a dream bubble this time around. Karkat had mixed feelings about dream bubbles, but this one had been a welcome (if annoying) distraction from the panmelting drudgery of meteor life.

Eventually, the bubble passed, everyone went back to their routines, and Karkat and Kanaya found themselves walking to the common room and sharing in the troll disease called friendship.

“I have to admit that I find him a little odd myself,” Kanaya was saying, “though you two are not without your similarities.”

“Ugh, I know! It’s like looking in the ugliest, most unflattering fucking mirror. The guy is basically the troll version of accidentally getting used sopor in your mouth. And then beating your nugbone into a rock for an hour to get the taste out.”

“He does not share your penchant for imagery, I’ll say that much.” Kanaya smiled.

“He doesn’t share my penchant for not being a sanctimonious dump of a troll,” Karkat spat.

Kanaya just laughed her soft and elegant laugh at him. 

“Fuck you, laugh it up, see if I…” Karkat stopped automatically. They were approaching the entrance to the common area, and he could hear a low muttering that he immediately identified as Dave. He’d gotten used to identifying the sound of Strider talking to himself, as he almost always was when Karkat showed up in Can Town. It was entirely normal, except that Karkat hadn’t seen him in days, and he hadn’t heard from him once since the dream bubble.

“Is that Dave?” Kanaya asked innocently.

“Where the fuck has he been?” Karkat said, frowning. 

They entered the common room, seeing Dave floating by the pantry, locked in what seemed to be a furious conversation with himself. His face was contorting more than Karkat was used to seeing, his words both too quiet and not clear enough to hear. Karkat stared for a little longer than he needed to, and he could feel Kanaya next to him, seemingly waiting for him to say something first. Looking at Dave, somehow, Karkat was sure he was seeing exactly what he looked like while he was talking to himself. 

“Hello Dave,” Kanaya said by way of greeting. 

Dave jumped. Or it would have been a jump, had his frond nubs been on the ground. As things were, he floated up and back in an inelegant jerk, bumping into the wall behind him with a thump, and landing on the floor in a somewhat clumsy, if stable, stance. 

“Oh! Hey Kanaya! ‘Sup Karkat.” He stepped into a more casual, natural stance, regarding them with coolguy neutrality. Looking at him now, it was like his conversation from a moment ago hadn’t happened.

“Where have  _ you _ been?” Karkat repeated his question from earlier. 

“Huh? I dunno, dude. Can’t exactly give you the dream bubble coordinates.” Dave was gathering food into his sylladex, more focused on that than on Karkat. 

“I don’t recall bumping into you in the bubble,” Kanaya said thoughtfully. “Although I didn’t see Vriska or Terezi either, this time around.”

“I was trolling you,” Karkat added. 

“Yeah, I was doing my own thing,” Dave replied vaguely, already floating toward the door. 

“Leaving already?” Karkat couldn’t stop himself from commenting, definitely a little bitter.

“Yeah, y’know. Stuff to do. Movie night later? Kanaya, movie night later? I better see you both there!” he said as he floated, and by the end of the sentence he was out the door.

Karkat couldn’t even be angry at being brushed off at this point. Not reasonably. At least Dave wasn’t messing with timeline stuff to make himself feel better. That he knew of. That was squarely in the realm of Karkat’s shameful behaviors. He refused to let himself forget it.

“I wonder what time movie ‘night’ is tonight?” Kanaya asked, tone brimming with amusement, and Karkat brought himself back to the present. 

  
  
  


>Karkat: Try not to flip your pan over every little thing.

  
  


“And why the fuck is it  _ your  _ decision?”

“Your last six movies have basically been a back-to-back face-off in whether Will Smith or John Cusack is moving forward in your dreamiest hunk bracket.”

“Oh don’t even fucking start! I’ve heard enough of your rancid ‘opinions’ to fill a recuperacoon with pangrating, rage-inducing ignorance slime.”

“That’s disgusting, dude.”

“What opinions would those be?” Rose asked innocently, slyly smiling into her tea mug.

“Just that Karkat’s got way too much of a boner for John Cusack and we might need to get everyone together for an intervention.”

“Seems serious,” Kanaya said gravely, causing Dave to sputter out a laugh. 

Meanwhile, Karkat was rolling his eyes, pretending he didn’t feel called out. “Right, hahaha, let’s all have a big fucking laugh because I can actually appreciate a high-quality actor!”

“Yeah, his high-quality ass.”

Karkat threw his fronds in the air. “So you’re saying you agree, is that right, asshole?”

“I’m  _ saying _ we don’t need to watch  _ Serendipity _ again just because Rose somehow has gotten away with not seeing it yet. It’s just not necessary.”

“We shouldn’t need to watch  _ Hitch _ so often either but Troll Will Smith seems to be the only fucking person you’ll listen to about quadrants!”

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps wanting to watch this shit. I could take or leave all this romcom crap.”

“Motherfucker, please.”

“Do you really think anyone wants to watch romcoms day in, day out, dude? Will Smith is a universal fucking treasure, but  _ Hitch  _ is just another shitty chick flick and you know it.”

“I don’t mind watching  _ Hitch  _ again,” Rose spoke up after a moment.

  
  
  


>Karkat: Really try not to flip your pan over every tiny thing.

  
  
  


\--carcinoGeneticist began trolling turntechGodhead at 05:03--

CG: SO I SEE YOU’RE STILL MAKING A FOOL OF ME.

TG: dude what the fuck

TG: are you even on about

CG: IS THAT REALLY HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT THE MOVIES I BRING TO MOVIE NIGHT?

TG: let it go

CG: I WILL NOT LET IT GO.

CG: I THOUGHT WE WERE SHARING IN MUTUAL APPRECIATION OF AN ARTISTIC FORM, AND IT WAS JUST A BIG FUCKING JOKE FOR YOU.

TG: sorry dude

TG: i like a lot of things ironically

TG: its my thing

TG: look can we just watch this

TG: rose is gonna notice you hunched over your phone like a damn gargoyle

CG: SO YOU WERE JUST “BEING IRONIC” WHEN YOU LISTENED TO ME EXPLAIN THE FASCINATING COMPLEXITIES OF TROLL SERENDIPITY? OR THE VACILLATION DRAMA IN “IN WHICH A HIGHBLOOD WAXES RED FOR A DEFECTIVE LOWBLOOD WHO IS UNABLE TO REMEMBER HIS SOLICITATIONS FOLLOWING EACH PLANETARY ROTATION, RESULTING IN INCOMPATIBLE QUADRANT FEELINGS AS THE HIGHBLOOD SEEKS TO WOO THE LOWBLOOD DAILY, WHICH SHE MISINTERPRETS AS BLACK SOLICITATIONS, ETC.”?

TG: basically

TG: im not a chick flick guy

CG: THEY’RE NOT JUST FOR “CHICKS” AND YOU KNOW IT.

CG: ANY WIGGLER CAN TELL YOU HAVE A WRITHING BULGE FOR WILL SMITH.

CG: WHAT AM I MISSING HERE?

TG: whoa what

TG: do bulges writhe??

TG: that is wild

TG: wait writhe as in like a tentacle

TG: dude youd tell me if you were packing a tentadick right

TG: wait 

TG: nevermind

TG: dont tell me about your dick

TG: why would i want to know about that

TG: that is so gross dude

CG: WHY WON’T YOU JUST ADMIT YOU LIKE THIS MOVIE?

TG: i do

TG: ironically

CG: IRONICALLY.

TG: dude its movie night cant you throw a shitfit later

CG: IN THAT CASE

CG: YOU CAN GO IRONICALLY LICK MY WASTE CHUTE

CG: WHILE I IRONICALLY WATCH THIS FUCKING MOVIE

CG: IRONICALLY IMAGINING STOMPING YOUR HEINOUS STUPIDITY TUNNEL UNDER MY IRONIC FUCKING HEEL.

\--carcinoGeneticist ceased trolling turntechGodhead at xx:xx--

TG: guess not

\--turntechGodhead ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist at 05:19--

Karkat watched about another fifteen minutes of Will Smith impart some of the best-written quadrant advice he’d ever seen in a movie, but he couldn’t focus on it. He knew his foot was twitching. Rose and Kanaya seemed to be exchanging glances in his peripheral vision. Looks like his typing hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he thought. Big surprise there, Karkat Vantas can’t be discreet to save his hide. 

Time passed and his focus on the movie became a total pipe dream, and Karkat grumbled a vague excuse and absconded as casually as he could.

  
  
  


>Karkat: Go see the Mayor. 

  
  
  


There was no such thing as a bad reason to go see the Mayor. He was the best. He was a good listener, his priorities were always straight, and he was cute as hell. Adorable and level-headed, he was exactly the guy that Karkat needed to see after throwing a tantrum over something that, in retrospect, definitely hadn’t been that important. 

He would have hated to admit it, but the walk over cooled most of the indignation in Karkat’s squawk chute. The Mayor was running a military exercise when Karkat got there, moving cans around the familiar black-and-white grid. When Karkat rounded the corner and entered the space, the Mayor looked up and ran over to him like an affectionate lusus eager to see his troll after a long day’s hunt. It warmed Karkat’s pump biscuit with bittersweet fondness. 

_ Hello! _ The Mayor seemed to be saying with his excited hug.  _ You’re back! _

“Hey buddy,” Karkat said, doing his best to sound gentle. “Just trying to get away from movie night. What’s going on here?”

The Mayor stepped back and tilted his head questioningly. 

“Nothing happened, I just wasn’t into it. Strider was being… well, you know how he is.”

The Mayor shrugged, eyes sympathetic, shoulders a little defeated. 

“It’s fine, we don’t need to get into it,” Karkat said in a hurry. He knew the Mayor didn’t like to trash-talk Dave, and he didn’t want to overstep the boundaries of whatever weird little relationship Dave denied that they had. “Look, why don’t I help you with the training exercises?”

The Mayor nodded enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together with a soft  _ click-clack _ . He waddled over to the training arena and moved a can from Tab squadron from one white square to another. Then he stepped off the board, looking pleased, and waited on Karkat’s response. 

Karkat, for his part, wasn’t entirely sure about this game. The Mayor seemed to constantly be making up new rules, and the original set barely seemed to make sense to begin with. But when he moved one of the cans from the side with all the labels torn off from one square forward, the Mayor seemed happy with the development and rushed in to respond. 

The military operation continued. They never quite reached the end of this game when they played, with the Mayor sometimes knocking over pieces and requiring them to start over. Karkat didn’t mind, though. It was a nonsense game with a nonsensical little alien who was getting a lot of joy out of minimal effort on Karkat’s part. It was comforting to be good at something, even if he didn’t understand what it was he was good at. 

Later, when they were sitting side by side against the wall on a snack break, Karkat’s thoughts finally got the better of him.

“Mayor?” Karkat started.

The carapacian looked up at him, in the inefficient process of devouring every crumb on his hands and face.

“Can we actually please talk about Dave?”

The Mayor looked at him for a moment, his face seeming to grow serious. He gave an emphatic nod.

Karkat exhaled. Well, if the Mayor said it was okay. 

“I just don’t know what to do about him! He’s this incomprehensible stonefaced enigma made of human dick jokes. Like, is he okay Is he losing his fucking pan? Does he just like making me angry for some kind of big ironic joke? Or is it a pitch thing? Does he actually like me on some level?” 

The Mayor’s hand was on Karkat’s, patting gently. The carapacian’s shiny, beady little eyes were soft and he was shaking his head.

“No? No he’s not just doing this to make me angry?”

The Mayor shrugged. 

“Or it’s not a pitch thing?”

The Mayor just looked confused.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Karkat glared off at the wall. He knew it wasn’t fair. Dave was an asshole, but that’s not what was making him so angry. As far as he could tell, the Dave that had responded to his memos was still in the future. When was that other shoe going to drop? There was no way Dave wasn’t going to have words to say to him about messing with the timeline for no good goddamn reason. It was almost like Karkat had a limited amount of time to be angry before Dave knew how badly Karkat had messed up. It was like Dave had this stupid amount of leverage against him and he didn’t even know it, just like John had during the session. With the rather pronounced difference being Karkat’s feelings about the human in question.

He was distracted from his thoughts by the Mayor tugging on the sleeve of his sweater. He looked down and the Mayor was gesticulating. He put his hands over his eyes in an approximation of Dave’s shades. He brought his arms around himself in a hug. He pointed to the spot on the floor where--

He pointed to the spot on the floor where Dave had been having his breakdown that one time, months ago, when Karkat had walked in on them. Karkat was sure of it. He felt his posture shaft stiffen.

The Mayor tugged on his sweater again, still gesturing. He was putting his fingers up to his head, an approximate gesture for Karkat’s horns. He pointed to the doorway, tilted his head, and looked searchingly at Karkat.  _ Why did that happen?  _

Karkat looked down at the Mayor, waiting for more, but that was it. That was the question. And it was a good question, looking back on things. At the time, he’d been so sure that startling Dave was dangerous. He’d been so sure that the Mayor was acting at Dave’s moirail, was pacifying him, and that Karkat hadn’t been necessary. More than anything, more than he wanted to admit, he’d been scared. He’d been reminded of his own former moirail, his own terrifying and dangerous moirail, and how he hadn’t been able to contain and protect him from himself. He hadn’t been ready to fail at that again.

But this was the Mayor. How much of that was he actually going to understand?

“I’m sorry,” Karkat said. “I thought it was private.”

The Mayor shook his head emphatically. He waved his hands and bounced his head in an anxious, erratic little gesture to indicate how much he did  _ not _ want it to be a private matter. He pointed at Karkat, brow set.  _ You can help.  _ He waves his hands again.  _ You understand better. _

Karkat hesitated. “I wish I could, but I don’t think he’d let me.” He gave the Mayor’s shoulder an awkward sympathy pat. “Has that happened a lot since?”

The Mayor shrugged once.  _ Not like that.  _ He seems to think, then points at Karkat again, head tilting one way and the other.  _ Less since you started coming.  _

Something glowed in Karkat’s thorax at the knowledge that his presence was helping Dave hold it together, on some level. Maybe those conversations they’d been having were doing more for Dave than Karkat had thought. Maybe any conversation with anyone would have done the trick, and everyone else was just too busy to give Dave the attention he so clearly craved. Even though Dave was still the most annoying human Karkat had ever met, Karkat couldn’t pretend to have a problem with giving Dave attention. The Mayor was still waiting for a response. 

“Sorry you had to deal with that stuff by yourself,” Karkat said. “It was probably really gross.”

The Mayor shrugged animatedly, little arms bent at the elbows, in the exaggerated gesture Karkat had come to know meant “ _ So annoying!!’  _ but which the Mayor seemed to use most when he was mimicking Karkat blowing a fuse over something. Karkat let out an amused snort. 

The Mayor was gesticulating again, getting into vague and unclear gestures that Karkat couldn’t quite follow. It seemed like he was talking about Dave, and Dave’s feelings, and how confusing they were for the Mayor. He really cared about Dave, but more than that, he really  _ wanted _ Karkat to care about him too. Some part of Karkat’s mind, the part that had still seen the Mayor as a sort of moirail for Dave, started to shift.

Karkat didn’t know what to say, so he reached out and gave the Mayor a compassionate pap on the head. The Mayor seemed happy enough for this turn in the conversation, leaning into Karkat’s hand like a friendly barkfiend. 

After gently papping the Mayor in silence started to get too pale for comfort for Karkat, he pulled his hand back. A question suddenly appeared in his thinkpan.

“Mayor?”

The Mayor looked at him.

“Do you think Dave is dangerous?”

The Mayor looked a little surprised, but he seemed to be giving the question some thought. Finally, he shook his head. 

For some reason, Karkat felt a little defensive about that. “You know he’s a god tier time player, right?”

The Mayor tilted his head, blinking in confusion.  _ What’s that? _

“He can travel through time and he has a big sword,” Karkat clarified. 

The Mayor stared at him blankly.

“Ugh. Just forget it.”

After a time, the Mayor curled up against Karkat’s lap, and Karkat found himself alone with his thoughts. He turned the situation over and over, then pulled out his palmhusk. There were a couple of messages from Dave, insecure little non-apologies and a commitment to see him at Can Town tomorrow. Normal stuff for when Dave pushed too far and Karkat took it too personally. 

In all honesty, Karkat had pretty much forgotten the little spat they had over romcoms in the common room. His mind was on the face he’d made in the kitchen earlier that day, on his off-putting muttering, on his future self’s confident meddling in Karkat’s feelings and life. It was like watching pieces of a puzzle float by out of order.

Dave wasn’t the one Karkat wanted to talk to, though.

  
  
  
  


\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA] at 06:47--

CG: HEY KANAYA.

CG: WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HUMAN QUADRANTS?

GA: Hello Karkat

GA: I Know A Little

GA: Namely That They Do Not Have Them As Such

GA: Why Do You Ask

CG: I’M GOING OUT ON A LIMB HERE AND GUESSING IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK.

CG: DO YOU THINK HUMANS ARE DANGEROUS?

CG: LIKE HOW SOME TROLLS CAN BE DANGEROUS? FOR EXAMPLE WITHOUT A MOIRAIL?

GA: That Is An Interesting Question

GA: Rose And I Have Spoken A Little About That

GA: Although I Admit I Believe It Left Me With More Questions Than Answers

GA: Personally I Think Being Dangerous Is A Matter Of Individual Character

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

GA: Not All Trolls Are Necessarily Dangerous In The Way You Are Referring To

GA: So Conversely Not All Humans Should Be Either

CG: WHAT ABOUT OUR HUMANS?

GA: I Am Not Sure

GA: During Their Sessions They Were Surely Forces To Be Reckoned With

GA: Although My Instinct Is That They Are Not As Biologically Prone To Rage

GA: When I Am With Rose I Do Not Feel The Need To Mitigate Her

GA: Perhaps That Is Naive Of Me

CG: BUT WHAT IF THEY NEEDED MITIGATING? 

CG: THEY DON’T EVEN HAVE MOIRALLEGIANCE. THEY DON’T EVEN LISTEN WHEN YOU TRY TO EXPLAIN IT TO THEM.

GA: Perhaps You Should Not Generalize The Way Dave Behaves To Others Who Share His Species

CG: WOW KANAYA.

CG: WAY TO MAKE ASSUMPTIONS.

GA: I Am Not Sure If You Can Classify It As An Assumption

GA: Given Your Limited Social Group Of Late

CG: FINE.

CG: I’M TALKING ABOUT DAVE.

CG: DAVE DOESN’T LISTEN ABOUT QUADRANTS.

CG: THAT’S NOT ACTUALLY BIG NEWS.

GA: I Feel I Must Ask

GA: Given The Subject Matter

GA: Do You Think Dave Is Dangerous

CG: HONESTLY?

CG: I DON’T KNOW.

GA: Should We Be Worried

CG: I DON’T THINK SO. I DON’T THINK I’M ACTUALLY THAT WORRIED ABOUT HIM HURTING ANYONE BUT HIMSELF THESE DAYS.

CG: BUT I DON’T KNOW. YOU’VE SEEN HIM, HE’S A *MESS*.

CG: IT’S PATHETIC.

CG: I MEAN, HE’S FINE. IT’S NOT LIKE WITH GAMZEE WHERE HE OBVIOUSLY NEEDED ME. FOR ALL THE GOOD *THAT* DID.

CG: DAVE IS PROBABLY FINE WITHOUT ME BUGGING HIM ALL THE TIME AND I’M JUST BEING A FUCKING IDIOT.

GA: On The First Point

GA: You Already Know My Feelings About That Person

GA: And I See No Need To Go Over That Again

CG: FAIR.

GA: As To Dave

GA: I Must Say

GA: I Did Not Know You Felt That Way About Him

GA: If You Were Interested In One Of His Quadrants I Might Have Assumed A Different One

GA: But Upon Reflection This Is Not Unusual For You

GA: In Reference To How You Spoke About 

GA: A Certain Previous Partner I Will Not Name

CG: WOW THANKS FOR THAT COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY AND INACCURATE ANNIHILATION OF MY CHARACTER. 

CG: I DID NOT NEED THAT CONNECTION MADE FOR ME, EVEN IF IT IS COMPLETELY MEANINGLESS.

CG: WHY WOULD YOU EVEN IMPLY I HAVE A PATTERN AROUND LASHING OUT IN NEBULOUSLY PITCH WAYS AT PEOPLE I CARE ABOUT? THAT IS SO COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS.

CG: *RIDICULOUS.*

GA: I Apologize. 

GA: I Was Attempting To Throw Shade

GA: But Perhaps I Went Too Far

CG: YOU THINK?!

CG: ...

CG: EXCEPT NO THAT’S COMPLETELY FUCKING SPOT-ON, GOD FUCKING DAMN IT.

CG: BUT DON’T REPEAT THAT. I’D DENY IT IF COMING FROM ANYBODY ELSE.

GA: I Am Aware

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 15.5%

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta reader Wertiyurae for looking over this for me!
> 
> Next chapter coming soon.


	6. >Dave: Cope poorly with the panwarping trauma of it all.

<==<

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 2.3%

  
  
  


>Dave: Cope poorly with the panwarping trauma of it all.

  
  


\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 00:04--

TT: Are you up?

TT: I thought we could do breakfast.

TT: Dave?

TT: Try not to throw off your sleep schedule too much. We’re all making an effort to stay in sync.

TG: im up

TG: the mayor needs help with some kind of project

TG: wouldnt want to leave him hanging

TT: Oh

TT: I see

TG: see you at movie night

TT: See you at movie night.

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 00:11--

It was about a month into his stay in what had to be the most buyer’s-remorse-inducing space timeshare Dave could imagine, and the short carapacian dude seemed to have imprinted on him or something. The little guy, in the dirty little mayoral sash he seemed so proud of, had pointed and waved and hopped his way to communication and to Dave’s coolkid heart. The Mayor was like a little alien child he got to navigate life in space with. Recently that meant stacking and restacking cans to make some kind of cute little can town. Sometimes they’d play games, mostly variations on make-believe military exercises. Sometimes Dave had to stop the Mayor from eating trash, like a dog. Dave couldn’t remember the last time he’d interacted with an actual child, or an actual dog. 

The Mayor, anxious in his new environment, had been the perfect excuse for Dave to avoid his new housemates. Not that he was avoiding anyone in particular. Just doing his own thing, and helping out this cool little dude with his neat little sash with his cute little town made of cans. Surely the Mayor didn’t deserve to be abandoned just to assuage Rose’s concerns. That seemed to track just fine.

There was something about going on a suicide mission with a person that just made a guy associate that person with death for the rest of time. Well, maybe not the rest of time, but at least a little while. He felt like crap for it. It wasn’t even remotely fair. He wanted to be there for Rose the way she was clearly trying to be there for him. But she had changed since this all started, and maybe he had too. Dave wasn’t ready to confront all the things that had made those changes.

Instead, he dove head-first into something new, and small, and trivial. He stacked cans, he talked to the Mayor, he deciphered his simple responses from waves and winks. It was a neat project, in an ironicically-G-rated kind of way. It was relaxing. The Mayor’s presence was soothing in a way being around Rose and the trolls wasn’t. 

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 02:12--

TT: It was nice to see you at dinner. 

TT: I appreciate that you made the effort.

TT: At the risk of sounding too much like a therapist, I am getting the sense lately that you may be needing some space.

TT: I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything that you don’t want to do right now.

TT: We’ve all been through a lot of traumatic events, and it’s healthy to take some space to process.

TT: I had hoped you might want to talk to me about it but perhaps I should not have pressed the issue quite yet.

TT: I will trust that you know I’m here when you need me. 

TT: See you at movie night?

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 02:20--

  
  
  


Maybe Rose was onto something with him needing space. Dave needed some kind of break from thinking about how  _ fucked _ his life had gotten, how  _ gone _ his home and his brother were, how  _ far _ any of his friends who weren’t Rose Lalonde were. He liked to keep his cool in the face of danger, and now that there was no real danger to keep cool in the face of, it somehow wasn’t coming as easily to him anymore. Movie night was one thing, but meetings and meals together and nebulous hanging out in the common room were another. 

He was a Strider. Striders keep their cool. If he couldn’t be cool there, what he could do was peace the fuck out and be cool somewhere else. If he couldn’t be cool at Can Town, fuck, where could he be cool? The bar could not have been lower.

But the weight of it got too great in his head. Somewhere along the line he started feeling that constant unexplainable  _ gnawing _ in his chest, the familiar and unwelcome sensation of emotional agony buried a few layers too deep. It kept him up at night, kept his mind jumping from a cacophony of instant replays to a smooth, foggy abyss and back. He had himself convinced it was still manageable until he had a panic attack in Can Town one day, finding himself surrounded by scattered cans and  _ shaking.  _ When he saw the Mayor react, little eyes wide with concern, Dave realized there was a hole in his plan. The Mayor  _ cared _ . The Mayor was all animated and alarmed because Dave had lost his shit over  _ nothing _ . Because his stupid body hadn’t gotten the memo that he wasn’t in his own room, and he wasn’t supposed to lose his cool like this in Can Town. And it was freaking out the Mayor. Somewhere in the cloud of fear and static, Dave found himself hurting at the vague idea that the Mayor could even  _ be  _ hurt. The Mayor seemed so incredibly innocent. Like he needed an adult.

“No, no no no no no, I’m so sorry. Buddy, it’s fine, everything’s fine, this whole damn  _ meteor _ is fine and so are all the fine people on it, and  _ I’m  _ fine. Heh. Heheh, we’re all fine, hah. Fine.”

He had the Mayor in his arms, hugging him from behind. The carapacian did not look like he believed anything Dave was muttering. He patted Dave’s arm reassuringly where it was wrapped around his small, dense thorax. 

Dave hugged a little tighter, not exactly because he meant to, and the Mayor’s gentle pats grew urgent and alarmed.

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 12.1%

  
  
  


>Dave: Try not to examine your own behavior too much.

  
  
  


“So… I have to know. What exactly is up with you and the Mayor?”

Dave hesitated for a split second mid-chew, then continued slowly to process the chips.They were sitting against the wall on a snack break while the Mayor went on his evening constitutional. It was good that he was managing to keep to a healthy routine despite the nauseatingly timeless vibe of the meteor. 

But Karkat had just asked a super weird question.

“Excuse me?” Dave asked with perfect neutrality.

Karkat shot him a pointed look as he chewed on a gummy. “Don’t play dumb, you know what I mean.”

Dave was not, in fact, sure what Karkat meant. But there was no denying he was  _ nervous _ . It was occurring to him that there were times when Dave had not been entirely cool around the Mayor, and perhaps he wasn’t a big fan of remembering the fact that that had happened. 

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Did he say something? You know shit gets lost in translation sometimes.”

“So you’re not in a quadrant with him?”

“ _ What? _ ” Dave peeled away from the wall instinctively in surprise.

Karkat was looking at him like he was an idiot. To be fair, it seems like he was. “What did you think I meant?”

Dave ignored the question. “You seriously thought I was macking on the Mayor? For real?”

“Ew, Strider! That was not the kind of quadrant I was thinking of!”

Dave ignored that, too. Who cared which gay troll quadrant it wasn’t? “He’s the  _ Mayor _ . He’s like a cute little brother. Or maybe like a tiny grandpa? I actually have no idea how old he is.”

Karkat was giving him that look he got when he was convinced Dave was fucking with him. “I have next to no idea what any of that means or what it has to do with quadrants.”

“It means we’re tight, but I’m not trying to troll-date him. Seriously, dude, that’s gross.” Dave stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth, buying himself time before he had to speak again. This was awkward and stupid. Had Karkat thought they were an item or something this whole time? He was afraid to ask.

“You constantly talk about how great he is, you fuss over what he eats, and you’re incredibly affectionate with him even when I’m  _ right here _ ,” Karkat elaborated, and oh fuck he was actually going to argue his point. Dave chewed faster, shaking his head in protest. Meanwhile, Karkat continued, “Seriously, Strider, is it normal for humans to cuddle their partners around others so much? Because, in case you aren’t getting it? By troll standards? It’s bad fucking form.”

Finally, Dave swallowed. “I’ve totally seen you hug the Mayor, dude. Don’t pretend.”

Karkat looked somewhat stumped by that, then frustrated. He frowned deeply, peering into Dave’s inscrutable glasses, and seeming to be annoyed by what he saw. “I was just trying to ask if he was your moirail or something, but now I’m thinking it was a mistake to even try to have a civil conversation about relationships with you.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re the only troll on the Can Town committee. Don’t project your hate/love foursquare onto us.” That made Karkat stop his steady, reckless devouring of an entire bag of gummy grubs, which in hindsight couldn’t possibly have been a good call for lunch. When Dave’s eyes flicked up from the bag to Karkat's eyes, they were giving him a withering look. He looked like he was about to say something, so Dave cut him off.

“So to answer your question, the Mayor’s totally single, bro. Follow your heart.” Dave let the corner of his mouth curl up into a mild, mocking smirk. It had the intended effect of making Karkat scowl and drop the issue.

“You’re such a fucking idiot.”

  
  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 14.7%

  
  
  


>Dave: Find a new way to cope.

  
  


Laying back on his bed, headphones on, eyes closed, Dave let music take him somewhere else.

Somehow, of all the media he had left, his music library still held all his most sincere nostalgia. He had music for every feeling and occasion--or for those occasions when he could admit to having feelings. Some songs reminded him of the nebulous grief that used to hit him as a child, divorced from anything obvious that he could be grieving. It had just been him and his bro for as long as he could remember, and nothing had ever significantly changed in his home life. But some songs were the emo songs he’d never admit to liking, that had matched the way he had felt, once upon a time. If he listened to those, he might have found that they still described how he felt, sometimes. Today, he was skipping those.

He lingered on the hip hop, on his favorite rap artists. He relished the lyrics about an idealized human existence that he’d never had any real life context for, and now never would. The lifestyle he heard described in the sick rhymes of his favorite songs was inspiring and tantalizing to him, like a mouthwatering delicacy he never thought he’d be able to afford to try. He could just imagine, he could just think back, he could just listen to the song that carried him into his best days. The songs he’d listened to when he was recovering from strife practice, when he was pretending nobody else was home, when he shut himself in his messy room and felt safe. 

Dave wondered what kind of music Karkat listened to. He was sure he’d asked about Alternian music at some point, so what had Karkat said…?  _ Oh, that’s right.  _ Karkat only listened to movie soundtracks, and when Dave had made fun of him for it, he’d thrown a tantrum. Why did Dave keep giving him shit when it was obvious he was going through something? Why did he have to be such an asshole?

The song changed from something upbeat and punchy to something smooth and calming, and Dave felt himself relax. Maybe this was what Karkat needed to chill him out. Dave was used to just listening to his tunes in his own room, where nobody could startle him when his headphones were on, but maybe it was time for some show-and-tell. In fact, when was the last time when he had mixed anything himself?

The longer he listened, the more he thought about Karkat’s scowling face and tense, hunched posture, the more this seemed like a good idea. 

He pushed himself up to a seated position and pulled his laptop closer to him. Then, with a rush of familiar anticipation, he opened up his mixing software for the first time in months.

  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 15.5%

  
  
  


>Karkat: Having consulted the Mayor and the Sylph, seek the Seer.

  
  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling tentacleTherapist [TT] at 07:15 --

CG: HELLO?

CG: CAN WE TALK.

TT: Hello, Karkat.

TT: To what do I owe the pleasure?

CG: I’LL CUT TO THE CHASE.

CG: WHAT DO HUMANS DO INSTEAD OF MOIRALLEGIANCE?

TT: I must admit I wasn’t expecting that.

TT: I’m not sure how to answer, either, as I am not sure how well I understand moirallegiance.

TT: My instinct is that we simply have friends.

CG: SERIOUSLY, LALONDE? 

CG: I THOUGHT KANAYA WOULD HAVE EXPLAINED QUADRANTS TO YOU BY NOW.

TT: While Kanaya has been helping me learn a number of things about troll culture, the pale quadrant is challenging for me to grasp.

TT: If I understand correctly, moirallegiance is an emotional connection rather than a physical one, that is predicated on mutual support. 

CG: THAT’S TECHNICALLY TRUE.

CG: IT’S ABOUT MITIGATING SOMEONE’S BAD HABITS AND MAKING SURE THEY’RE OKAY. USUALLY THERE IS AN ELEMENT OF KEEPING THEM SAFE FROM THEMSELVES.

CG: I DON’T KNOW ABOUT HUMANS, BUT TROLLS CAN BE PRETTY FUCKING DANGEROUS LEFT UNCHECKED.

CG: IN CASE YOU SOMEHOW DIDN’T PICK UP ON THAT YET.

TT: Hmm.

TT: I see what you are saying about trolls.

TT: But seeing as you were asking about humans, I feel I must ask:

TT: Is something the matter with Dave?

CG: WHAT?

CG: NO.

CG: WHAT?

CG: WHY ARE YOU EVEN BRINGING THAT UP?

CG: HE’S FINE.

CG: AS MUCH AS HE EVER IS, ANYWAY.

CG: CAN YOU JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION?

CG: DO HUMANS HAVE ANYTHING LIKE MOIRALLEGIANCE?

TT: Well, that’s a little concerning, but all right.

TT: I don’t think humans have anything quite like moirallegiance, the way you describe it.

TT: In all honesty, when humans think one of their own might hurt himself, that human will go to a therapist.

TT: Which is a type of doctor.

CG: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

TT: Sometimes they receive medication, or they simply pay someone to talk to them once a week. That person is called a therapist.

CG: THAT’S SO INCREDIBLY INEFFICIENT.

TT: I suppose it is, seeing as we have a dearth of therapists on this meteor.

TT: In fact, we have a dearth of humans, as well.

TT: Speaking of which

TT: Unless there is something you need to tell me

TT: May I assume you are seeking my advice on pursuing my brother as a moirail?

CG: WHY ARE YOU CALLING HIM THAT?

CG: I KNOW YOU TWO SHARE GENES AND SOMEHOW THAT IS SIGNIFICANT FOR YOU MAMMALS, BUT HOW IS THAT IMPORTANT TO THIS CONVERSATION?

TT: I suppose it isn’t, directly.

TT: It simply means I am also very invested in Dave’s well-being.

TT: And that includes having some interest in his potential partners.

TT: Though I must admit I’m surprised at your choice of quadrant.

CG: WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? 

CG: I DIDN’T “CHOOSE” A QUADRANT. 

CG: I DIDN’T ASK TO CARE ABOUT HIS STUPID PANWARPED MESS OF A PERSONALITY OR HIS RIDICULOUS SHADES-WEARING EMOTIONLESS FACE.

TT: It seems I misspoke. My apologies.

CG: GOD KNOWS I DID A SHIT JOB OF HAVING A MOIRAIL WHEN I HAD ONE, SO I DON’T KNOW WHY ANYONE WOULD EVEN WANT ME IN THAT QUADRANT.

CG: AND HE’S SUCH AN ASSHOLE SOMETIMES IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE HE “doesnt get the kismespades thing bro”

CG: BUT THEN HE SPENDS ALL HIS TIME AROUND ME JUST HANGING OUT AND *TALKING*. AND HE KEEPS LETTING ME CHOOSE THE MOVIES WE WATCH EVEN THOUGH HE CLAIMS NOT TO LIKE ANY OF THEM SINCERELY AND HE JUST KEEPS SAYING WE’RE ‘BROS.’

CG: SOMETIMES I THINK HE WANTS TO OPEN UP TO ME, BUT I CAN’T FUCKING TELL. I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

CG: AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON HIS THING WITH THE MAYOR.

CG: I KNOW ROMANCE IS SUPPOSED TO BE COMPLICATED BUT THIS IS JUST FUCKING STUPID. 

TT: This is fascinating.

TT: His thing with the Mayor?

CG: DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED. 

CG: HE INSISTS HE’S LIKE A “SMALL GRANDPA” IF THAT MEANS ANYTHING TO YOU.

TT: Ah.

TT: An elderly member of a human family.

TT: Not traditionally a potential quadrant mate.

CG: WELL DOESN’T THAT JUST CLEAR THAT UP!

CG: EXCEPT OH WAIT NONE OF THAT MAKES SENSE.

CG: MEANWHILE I JUST GET TO DECIPHER STRIDER’S “IRONY” AND BULLSHIT TO TRY TO GET A SENSE OF WHAT MIGHT BE GOING ON IN HIS ADDLED PAN, AND I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE I’M PALE FOR HIM.

TT: It’s interesting to hear about someone else’s experiences with Strider’s frosty persona secondhand.

TT: I wish I knew what to tell you.

TT: If I understand moirallegiance on any level, it seems like it may prove a challenge.

CG: YOU’RE FUCKING TELLING ME.

CG: WAIT.

CG: BEFORE, YOU SAID YOU WERE SURPRISED AT MY “CHOICE OF QUADRANT.”

CG: WHICH QUADRANT WERE YOU EXPECTING?

TT: On reflection

TT: I don’t think that I should say. 

TT: I believe I may have too much of a human bias on the matter.

TT: Humans don’t have pale quadrants, and I’m not sure if we have pale feelings the same way that trolls do.

TT: I still find myself a little confused even with your explanation.

CG: SERIOUSLY? I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE SMART ONE.

TT: Regrettably, we can’t all be quadrant experts.

TT: If I understand correctly, the difference seems to be the degree to which one feels the desire to protect another and keep him centered. 

TT: This desire forms the basis for pale romantic feelings.

TT: How does that sound?

CG: IF THAT’S HOW YOUR “HUMAN BIAS” NEEDS TO PUT IT, IT’S NOT ENTIRELY WRONG.

TT: I think I can understand that.

TT: I take it you haven’t spoken with Dave yet?

CG: WHAT DO YOU THINK?

TT: Right.

TT: I can imagine that he might struggle with the concept.

CG: DO YOU THINK HE’D REACT BADLY?

TT: To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. 

TT: There is certainly a cultural gap. I’m not sure what his take would be on being in a troll’s quadrant.

TT: Specifically in a male troll’s quadrant.

CG: WHY WOULD HE HAVE A PROBLEM BEING MOIRAILS WITH ANOTHER MALE?

CG: WE’RE NOT EVEN THE SAME SPECIES, AND IT ISN’T EVEN A CONCUPISCENT QUADRANT.

CG: WHAT COULD GENDER POSSIBLY HAVE TO DO WITH IT?

TT: Humans tend to care quite a lot about gender, so you should be prepared if things go in that direction.

TT: But I can’t speak for him. 

TT: In fact, it’s entirely possible that he wouldn’t have a problem with it.

TT: It isn’t something we’re spoken about of late.

TT: But Dave has a tendency to be a little thick-headed about such matters.

TT: As he tends to be about many matters.

CG: DON’T I FUCKING KNOW IT.

TT: I do not mean to discourage you, Karkat.

TT: You may simply have to explain your intentions very carefully.

TT: Perhaps use small words.

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 17.2%

  
  
  


>Dave: Bring some chill beats to build Can Town to. 

  
  
  


Dave arrived in Can Town early to a happy and eager little Mayor. He patted the carapacian’s head, gave him a hug, and then gave him a freshly-alchemized set of markers to break in. He could entertain himself for a long time, making all the different crisp lines that a fresh marker point could make. The Mayor had invited Dave to join him, but Dave had work to do.

He looked around the cavernous industrial space they’d settled into. Can Town sprawled from the dead center of the room out, incorporating the chalk Tab river, a city square, a city park, the checkmarked parade ground, and all manner of various municipal and commercial buildings made out of empty foot cartons and cans. The Tab towers rose above the rest, the exact arrangement getting demolished and rebuilt regularly, currently three equal-height teetering high-rises. Their latest banner--the one with all the dicks (although that did not make it unique)--hung proudly from the pipes opposite the entrance to the room. 

One corner of the room had turned into a cushion-and-blanket fortress, built by and for the Mayor. Another corner was the entrance, and a third corner was essentially useless due to the large tank occupying the dusty space. They mostly worked in the cleanest, flattest area, the remaining corner of the room, where they also left the majority of their art supplies at the end of the day. 

Dave floated over to that corner, moved some things around, and got to work. 

  
  
  


>Karkat: Face the music. 

  
  
  


For some reason Dave was wearing those clunky, ridiculous headphones when Karkat arrived in Can Town. Karkat understood listening to music, but those things looked ridiculous, and he couldn’t get past the phantom sensation looking at them gave him, one of hard plastic thudding up against his horns. But, then again, Dave didn’t actually have horns, so he supposed it made sense. 

The Mayor was hanging his artwork on the wall like a dumb, happy wiggler and Dave was hunched over a piece of paper on the floor in the middle of the room, concentrating. Karkat walked over to Dave first. 

“What are you wearing on your head?” Karkat asked by way of greeting, and Dave startled so hard he pushed the marker off the paper and drew a hard red line on the concrete. He looked up and, as if his embarrassing little reaction hadn’t happened at all, removed his headphones with all the cool in the world. 

“Finally. Any longer and I was going to start pestering you.”

Karkat’s eyes lingered on the new mark Dave had made on the concrete, but decided not to say anything.

“Waiting on me for something?”

“Kinda. I was waiting till you got here. Come on, you’ll like this.”

Dave stood up off the floor, cape picking up dust, and led Karkat to the corner of the room where they kept all their wigglerish art supplies. There was something new there that Karkat didn’t quite recognize at first. As they approached and Karkat got another look, he realized it was some sort of off-putting lime green gummy speaker, big enough to fill three Can Towns with noise. 

“Did you alchemize this? Does it actually  _ work _ ?” Karkat asked incredulously. Figuring out working captcha codes for working appliances was an uphill struggle on the meteor. They’d spent some time in the alchemy room, just alchemizing all sorts of useless trash, but the activity had gotten boring with no fruitful results, and the trash had just piled up. Karkat didn’t go down to the alchemy room these days unless he needed something for Can Town or for the pantry.

The corner of Dave’s mouth was quirked up in a cool, smooth little smile. “Heck yeah it works. I thought about bringing two, but I thought that’d be overkill. Hang on, I just gotta plug my phone into it.”

Karkat stood back, sort of impressed that he managed to alchemize something with a usable headphone jack. It must have been a project. 

After some awkward cord-fumbling and poking at his lagging phone screen, Dave finally seemed to have queued up the playlist he was looking for. A low, full note began to rise from the speaker, filling the room. A burst of sound like fireflies joined in, and the sound swayed gently like trees used to in Alternia’s forests on a mild night. A warm sensation rose in Karkat’s chest and he relaxed his shoulders a little, despite himself. 

“What is this?” he tried to ask, but Dave put up a finger, still smiling faintly. A gentle rush of a melody rose up over the beat. Dave was nodding along to the music.

“Just listen.” Dave was sitting on the floor near the speaker, and after a moment of awkward standing, Karkat sat down as well. It was loud, but not unpleasant. 

Karkat noticed the Mayor dancing by his artwork wall, lost in the music in a way Karkat sort of envied. He was swaying and stepping and bobbing his head, and Dave was bobbing his head in a self-satisfied sort of way, and Karkat found himself awkwardly tapping his knee with his hand. His eyes fluttered closed as the speaker’s vibrations came to a peak and the melody swelled. It reminded him of watching the acid rain from inside his hive. It reminded him of melancholy moments in his favorite movies. Dave had shown him the kind of music he normally listened to, and this definitely wasn’t it. 

Eventually, a little too soon, the song faded into silence. Karkat opened his eyes, embarrassed to find Dave looking at him.

“Looks like you found some chill, huh?” he asked, all smug.

“Shut up,” Karkat grumbled. Was he actually feeling pacified by some human music? God, he was so toothless for a troll. 

“What’d you think?” he prompted.

“I don’t--is this some kind of test?”

“No, dude, seriously.”

“I don’t know anything about human music,” Karkat protested. “It wasn’t as harsh and headachey as the noise you used to show me.”

Dave’s face was at once very cool and very smug. “Aw, thanks, buddy, you’re makin’ me blush.”

Karkat snorted. “Why? It’s not like you wrote it.”

Dave gave a cocky shrug. “Bold assumption.”

Karkat’s eyes went wide. “You actually wrote that?!”

“Damn straight. You just had the privilege of hearing the very first Strider original mixed on a meteor hurtling through space. Not half bad, right? I didn’t have any of my equipment, but I still think I pulled off the vibe I wanted. What’d you think? Did it mellow you out?” Dave was looking smug again, and Karkat fought his instinct to take him down a peg. 

“Don’t fucking  _ say _ things like that! But, uh, yeah. I liked it. I didn’t know you could actually do that.” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Karkles.” Dave waggled his eyebrows. “But keep the compliments coming.”

Karkat let out a long-suffering sigh. “It actually  _ was  _ kind of nice until you started  _ talking  _ again.” He looked again from Dave to the speaker and back. “How long have you been working on this?”

Dave shrugged. “A while. I dunno, man, I guess things seemed pretty tense at the time and I felt like we could use some sweet background sounds to keep the peace at Can Town.”

_ Oh _ . Karkat thought, putting the pieces together immediately. Dave was talking about Karkat’s habit of yelling and grumbling and--on at least one occasion--causing widespread property damage in Can Town. That was the kind of peace Dave was trying to keep. 

The music was still playing, no longer Dave’s song. Whatever was on now had a female voice crooning softly over a slow and steady melody. It was nice, too, Karkat supposed. It seemed like the rest of the playlist was all gentle, soothing music, like something the Mayor could fall asleep to or like Karkat could get lost in thought to. The Mayor tuckered himself out dancing and stumbled over into the corner they were seated in. Karkat watched as he brought over a little cushion, placed it between Karkat and Dave, and curled up with his head on the pillow. 

“Hey, uh,” Dave started after a long moment of not-quite-silence, given the background music, “I just wanted to say. I think I was--” He stopped, started again. “There’s maybe a non-zero chance that I was kind of a dick about some stuff. Maybe I’m still a dick about some of that stuff? I dunno. You’re just, kinda, so different from the other people I met in my life. And I guess maybe I reacted to that like an asshole. And like, thanks. For putting up with my shit.”

Karkat’s bloodpusher was pounding in his ears. He froze to the spot, just  _ staring  _ at Dave in his rare moment of vulnerability. Dave was looking down, eyes trained on the Mayor, and the self-conscious way he couldn’t meet Karkat’s eyes even with shades on made a rush of sweet, pale affection flow through the parts of Karkat that had previously been occupied by Dave’s gentle, pacifying song. 

“And like,” Dave started again, still not looking up. “I mean, I know you can be kinda cagey about your shit, but like, we all got shit, right? We’ve all been through some grizzly fucking nightmare fuel. And I guess we’re all super wound up in our own shit all the time and not, like, paying attention to anyone else’s shit? I dunno, I feel like I’m just saying ‘shit’ a lot.’

“You are,” Karkat found his voice to interject.

“Yeah, fair. But, uh, if something’s messing you up, you can always talk to me. Or, like, the Mayor. I dunno, man. We’re bros, y’know?” Dave paused, and for a traitorous moment Karkat’s bloodpusher seemed to soar. It seemed like a better moment would never come. He needed to ask, it was then or never-- “And I mean, I’d rather you talk to me than start, like, time-travel talking to yourself. That was straight-up nuts.”

Karkat froze. His jaw clicked shut from where it had been poised to speak. Dave seemed to notice. 

“Hey, so, not trying to make any baseless accusations, but you haven’t been doing the straight-up nuts time travel talking to yourself thing, have you?”

Karkat opened his mouth to deny it, but the words died on his tongue and his mouth snapped shut. He gritted his teeth in frustration.  _ Does it fucking  _ have  _ to be now?  _ But it did. He could feel it, like the feeling he got just before he typed a response to his past self that he’d already read once. This was when it happened. This was when the other shoe dropped. 

“KitKat. Karkles. Kar-Kar. Tell me you’re not fucking around with time shit.”

Karkat swallowed hard. He’d gone over this in his head a thousand times, but now that it was happening, he couldn’t remember what he’d planned to say. 

“I’m not doing it anymore,” is what came out.

Dave’s face was smooth, but Karkat could tell he was disappointed. “You sure about that? ‘Cause I’m neither a jury nor Terezi but you look guilty as hell.”

“I’m not lying,” Karkat said hollowly. “I stopped opening memos a long time ago. Right after you--” Karkat paused, looked from the comfortably resting Mayor to Dave’s tense posture and back to the floor between them. This was so nice. This had been so nice. He  _ hated  _ his past self for putting them in this position. How could he have  _ dared _ to jeopardize this so badly? Did he really hate himself this much? Karkat sighed, then swallowed.

“Before I say anything else, let’s just all agree that I’m a fucking idiot.”

  
  
  


>==>

PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 17.2%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta reader Wertiyurae for looking over this for me!
> 
> Next chapter coming soon.


	7. >Dave: Try not to be too insensitive about blackrom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning, panic attack stuff.

<==<

  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 12.9%

  
  


>Dave: Try not to be insensitive about blackrom.

  
  


Before Dave had alchemized the speaker, during a long lull between short blips of dream bubble intersection, there had been about a week when Karkat had gotten really aggressive about trying to teach him about quadrants. Rose and Kanaya’s whole undefined thing was increasingly obviously a  _ thing _ of some kind, and while Dave had seen girls in movies get doe-eyed and romantic when their friends got together, Karkat just seemed to want to go into lecture mode. 

For the most part, Dave tried not to engage at all, nodding along and pretending to be listening. Karkat barely seemed to notice if his words were landing or not, so it was overall better not to get him too riled up. But there were times when the long walks from the alchemizer to Can Town got boring, or the repetitive stacking of cans left Dave with nothing else to focus on. As much as he tried to avoid it, eventually he was bound to end up actually talking to Karkat about quadrants.

“...and those qualities you admire about a kismesis are what make their negative qualities all the more infuriating to you. That’s the basis of all blackrom, even the conciliatory variety.”

“See, nothing you just said makes sense. If someone’s driving me up a wall, I want them to fuck the hell off, not stick around and keep pissing me off.”

“You humans just have broken hateglands, or something. There are trolls like that, but it’s pretty rare.”

“Even if I swallow the big bullshit horse pill of accepting that that’s an actual real part of troll anatomy, how is that not just incredibly fucking unhealthy? Two people getting all rough and violent with each other who are also macking on each other sounds like what we human beings would call ‘toxic.’”

“It can be! That’s basically the entire point of auspisticism. Sometimes a potential pitch pairing is just too disruptive, or a couple is putting their quadrant in jeopardy through ill-advised vacillation. Enter the auspistice. A good auspistice has a true connection to both halves of the couple, and that’s why they can keep the peace so sustainably.”

“Oh, that’s like how in all the troll movies, there has to be that one guy whose job is to make sure the hero and the villain don’t full-on hate-fuck each other?”

“You were paying some fucking attention! How about that?”

“It was one of Terezi’s bizarro law dramas.  _ Way _ more gruesome than they have any right to be. Kinda glad she stopped bringing those, not gonna lie.”

“If you wanted a better portrayal of auspisticism, I’m sure I could look through my library and find something more realistic than the overdramatic way it plays out in Terezi’s over-the-top bloodbaths. In fact, I should do that. It would be good for you and maybe even Rose to understand the role auspisticism plays in our society, seeing as it’s one of the most underrated quadrants in romantic cinema.”

“Dude, stop. I don’t want to know about auspi- auspicious- nope, not trying to pronounce it. Anyway, why would anyone want to be clubfriends with anyone anyway? Seems hella awkward.”

“Well  _ maybe _ if you had two friends that you really cared about who were at each other’s throats or about to do something catastrophically stupid.”

“Maybe I’d understand that it’s none of my fucking business?”

“Even if it fundamentally compromised the stability of the entire social cluster?! This shit isn’t a joke, Strider!” Karkat’s voice was rising. Dave wondered if he even realized it. He made sure his face was maddeningly neutral.

“No thanks, bro. I don’t do quadrants.”

Karkat screwed his face up in frustration and opened his mouth to make a scathing reply, but the Mayor chose that moment to come up and tap Dave on the shoulder a few times encouragingly. He made eager eye contact with Karkat. Karkat’s jaw clicked shut as he watched the carapacian reach down and hand him a can. He pointed at the neglected structure they’d been working on.  _ Back to work! _

“Sorry, Mayor,” Karkat said, voice still bitter but softer than it had been.

It was endearing how bossy the little guy could be at times. Dave pulled off another piece of tape and adhered it to the little can building. The Mayor, satisfied that they were taking the project seriously again, waddled off to keep drawing planets on the wall.

“You got in trouble with the Mayor,” Dave teased after a tense few seconds.

“Shut up, Strider.”

  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 17.2%

  
  
  


>Dave: Try not to get too angry at your idiot of a best friend. 

  
  
  


“I don’t walk around with a fucking cape on because I’m making a fucking fashion statement! I have fucking  _ time god  _ powers. Did you miss the memo when I said no time shit?” Dave wasn’t yelling, he hadn’t even gotten up when Karkat had finally explained what was going on. He was trying to play it cool, but a numbing tingle was starting to climb up his fingers and he was beginning to feel himself sweating.

Karkat visibly bristled, as if he wasn’t the asshole in this situation. “You said  _ you _ wouldn’t do any time shit.” 

“Yeah, dipshit, it was implied that if anyone else sprouted a hard-on for fucking with the timeline, they should just, I don’t know. Not?” Well, that had come out more barbed than intended. Not that Karkat didn’t sort of deserve it. Dumb time travel made for doomed timelines, and this one didn’t  _ feel _ doomed. So this was a closed time loop, and according to Karkat, he would have to fucking help close it. God  _ damn _ . He felt like the father of a wayward teen in a Lifetime movie--not angry, but hella disappointed. 

The Mayor was on his feet and anxiously looking between the two of them, wringing his hands. For the moment, they were still seated near the quiet oversized gummy speaker. Karkat had one knee up, hand poised on it as if ready to push himself up and abscond. But he was looking straight at Dave, brow furrowed seriously as if showing too much remorse would only make Dave angrier. 

“I already heard this from you before!” Karkat threw his hands up defeatedly, his volume escalating. “And you’re right! And I know you’re right, and shut up!” 

“Well, too bad. You fuck with time, sometimes you end up getting shit on twice. That can’t be a new concept for you by now. Seriously, what the  _ fuck _ ? This is like your best friend is a firefighter--(I don’t know, an aqualoceraptor or some bullshit like that)--and all his fuckin’ firefighter buddies (that I guess were also himself?)  _ perished in flames _ and you just keep playin’ with matches and falling asleep with the oven on for kicks. Do you know how ready I am to  _ not _ fuck with going any direction on the timeline other than forward, at the regular joe-schmo non-time-god pace, for the rest of my alpha-timeline-to-the-end existence.  _ That _ is the fucking goal.” 

He pushed his shades up for a moment to rub the bridge of his nose. The music had stopped a while ago. So much for keeping the peace in Can Town today. When he looked up, the Mayor was crouching next to Karkat, with his usual offer of compassionate eye contact. Dave watched Karkat’s face soften, and he let out a sigh. 

Dave started again, “And since I’m the resident time guy, I guess I gotta help you out here so we don’t all end up ghosts. Which I guess means I was gonna try to chat you up in your memos all along? Ugh, I fucking  _ hate _ time shit.”

“I’m sorry, okay? It’s not like I’d be making you do this if you hadn’t already fucking done it!”

“So to be clear, you are  _ making _ me do this? Like, I don’t get a say, I’m just there to spice up the fucking pity party for the angry couple?” Dave let out without entirely meaning to. He saw the Mayor waving an a obvious  _ No, no, no _ and he should have just cut himself off. 

“I knew you’d find a way to be an asshole about this.”

Karkat’s eyes were gleaming, widening. Dave realized he was watching hurt begin to overtake anger on Karkat’s face. His eyebrows still said “angry” in some last-ditch defensive measure, but his shoulders were set like he was waiting to be  _ punished _ . All his muscles (or whatever trolls had for that) were poised to abscond. Reading Karkat was easier than it used to be. In fact, Karkat seemed so completely transparent now, jaw set like he was waiting for a verdict on Alternia.

It hit Dave that Karkat had been anticipating this since whenever he’d first opened those memos. Once he’d set the chain of events in motion, they were entirely out of his control. 

The Mayor seemed to be trying to tell him that Dave didn’t mean it, which, yeah, that was true. But then, he was looking over at Dave, waving his little bug-bro hands around. He could practically hear the little friendship speech the little guy must’ve been giving. Well, no, but he got the gist:  _ Don’t be an asshole. _ (Dave might have been paraphrasing.)

He tried to find his chill again. “Okay, fine. Not being an asshole. I can do that.” Karkat looked skeptical. Dave was skeptical, too. “Look, this sucks, but it basically already happened. I’m just catching up to you.” He paused. “What am I supposed to say?”

Karkat shrugged stiffly. “You can read the memo before you reply to it, since it already happened and I already unleashed my own personal reckoning of misdirected anger and self-flagellating humiliation and this is just the part where you get to witness it crashing down like it’s projected on a fucking Skaia cloud.” By the time he was done talking, his face had lapsed into what just looked like nausea. “Meanwhile I will be figuring out how to throw myself off the meteor out of completely justified  _ shame _ .”

Dave felt for Karkat on that one. He knew how embarrassed he could get about his little tantrums after the fact, so this must basically have been Karkat’s worst nightmare. “Sounds like a real category 5 Vantas shitstorm, huh?”

“The second time was worse,” Karkat said darkly, “But they were both unmitigated runaway disasters of humiliation and I made a complete fool of myself. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I ever dragged you into my quagmire of emotional sewage, and I hate that this is happening,” he finished, arms crossed across his chest as if it would give him some kind of high ground. Dave wasn’t even looking, though. He was looking through his pesterchum app, and sure enough, there was a memo he hadn’t seen before. Just one, so far. The second would probably appear after he was done with this one.

“I think this is my cue, dude.” 

Karkat was on his feet as if Dave was giving him the heads up on an oncoming train. “Fuck, which one of those assholes is that?”

“Dude, that’s literally  _ you _ .” Was that seriously how Karkat talked about himself? “And this is  _ months _ ago, how have you been keeping this from me?!” 

“Yes, okay, you can revoke my human friendship card now! Clearly I have deserved all your shaming and derision! We’ve fucking established this! And now that fucking idiot that is  _ literally me  _ is going to fuck up everything and it’s all my fault. I  _ know _ , Strider! I  _ fucking know! _ ” 

Dave watched as the Mayor pat the troll’s arm compassionately. Karkat looked down at him, looking so incredibly at a loss that it hurt to watch. 

“It’s fine, dude,” he heard himself saying. “I mean, fuck, it’s not fine. But it’s not the worst anyone ever fucked up, so just… chill. Nobody’s taking anyone’s ‘human friendship card,’ whatever that is. Rose once ganked a suicide mission from me, this is fucking nothing.”

Karkat was watching him with widening eyes. Then he seemed to consider what Dave had said. “Do you even talk to Rose?

“Sometimes? Also, shut up.” Dave gripped his phone tighter. “Look, if I’m gonna do this, I gotta do this.”

“Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” Karkat gave the Mayor’s head a goodbye pat and turned to leave. 

“Not staying?”

Karkat shook his head. When he spoke, there was something in his tone that was hurting, something like pity. It made Dave feel a little put on the spot. “I’m not supposed to be here when you do this.”

“Right. I’ll pester you later, alright?”

“You’d better,” Karkat said, but it didn’t sound like his heart (pump biscuit?) was in it. 

Then Karkat was gone, and Dave opened the memo, and began his conversation with Karkat. 

  
  
  


>Dave: Tell Karkat to chill. 

  
  
  


PAST carcinoGeneticist [CCG] ??? hours ago opened a memo on board HOLY FUCK THESE IDIOTIC NUGFUCKERS ARE GOING TO MAKE ME KILL MYSELF LONG BEFORE JACK GETS A CHANCE

FCG: YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T BE DOING THIS, DUDE.

CCG: HA HA SPARE ME THE FUCKING ETHICAL DEBATE.

CCG: MY NEXT FUCKING IDEA IS TO GO LOOKING FOR HIS BLOCK MYSELF TO MAKE SURE SOMEONE’S THERE TO COLLECT THE FUCKING BODY.

FUTURE turntechGodhead [FTG] ???? HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FTG: dude

FTG: im fine just chill

CCG: DAVE??...

Dave proceeded to have a conversation that took place earlier.

  
  
  


>Dave: Once again, try to tell Karkat to chill.

  
  
  


PAST carcinoGeneticist [CCG] ??? hours ago opened a memo on board HOLY FUCK THESE IDIOTIC NUGFUCKERS ARE GOING TO MAKE ME KILL MYSELF LONG BEFORE JACK GETS A CHANCE

CCG: I FUCKING HATE IT HERE

CCG: AND I FUCKING HATE DREAMING ABOUT ALL MY DEAD FRIENDS.

CCG: AND I FUCKING HATE YOU FOR WHATEVER SELF-DEPRECATION BORDERLINE-ABUSIVE HOOFBEAST SHIT YOU ARE ABOUT TO SPRAY ALL OVER YOUR FUCKING CHOSEN COMPUTING DEVICE. 

FUTURE turntechGodhead [FTG] ??? HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FTG: yo

FTG: lets do this

CCG: OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE….

Dave proceeded to have another conversation that took place earlier. 

  
  
  


>Dave: Keep having to tell Karkat to chill for some reason.

  
  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 02:13 --

CG: DAVE?

CG: ARE YOU DONE TROLLING MY PAST SELVES?

CG: HONESTLY I TRIED TO BLOCK OUT THOSE CONVERSATIONS BECAUSE THEY WERE MORTIFYING ENOUGH TO BEGIN WITH.

CG: WHAT I REMEMBER ISN’T GOOD THOUGH.

CG: I WAS BEING AN ASSHOLE, AND YOU DIDN’T DESERVE THAT.

CG: CAN WE PLEASE JUST CHALK IT UP TO A HUMILIATING FIT OF WEAKNESS ON MY PART THAT FOR SOME MORTIFYING REASON MANAGED TO HAPPEN TWICE?

CG: I WOULD REALLY LIKE IT IF WE NEVER HAD TO TALK ABOUT IT AGAIN. 

CG: DAVE?

\-- turntechGodhead is an idle chum! --

CG: YEAH I DON’T BLAME YOU.

CG: YOU’VE PROBABLY HAD ENOUGH OF MY SHIT.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 02:19 --

God _ damn _ it, Karkat. Three in a row was just too many.

He leaned against the side of the weird, slightly tacky speaker. He knew he should probably say something to him, he’d practically promised, but he wasn’t ready to ask what Karkat had meant about him and the Mayor. 

His phone vibrated and he opened his eyes, not having quite realized that he’d closed them.

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 02:29--

CG: I JUST WANTED TO CHECK IF YOU STILL WANT ME TO COME TO CAN TOWN TOMORROW.

CG: SINCE IF YOU DIDN’T THAT WOULD MAKE SENSE.

TG: dude can we just talk tomorrow

TG: no offense but im exhausted

CG: YEAH OF COURSE.

CG: SORRY YOU HAD TO PUT UP WITH MY SHIT.

TG: its fine

TG: just chill

TG: like actually

TG: chill

TG: see you tomorrow

CG: OKAY I GET THE PICTURE.

\--turntechGodhead [TG] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 02:30--

CG: SEE YOU TOMORROW.

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 02:31--

It  _ was _ fine. It  _ would be _ fine. He took a moment to hook up the speaker to his phone again and started playing his chill playlist. Taking a minute to arrange his cape in a convenient pile at the base of his spine, Dave found a comfortable position leaning on the cool gum side panel of the speaker. His eyes slipped shut and his breathing came easier with sound vibrating in his head and chest.

  
  
  


>Karkat: Get a new reason to worry.

  
  
  


\--gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 03:23--

GC: H3Y K4RKL3S

GC: YOUR L1TTL3 L1COR1C3 FR13ND IS FR34K1NG OUT 1N TH3 COMMON ROOM

GC: 1 TH1NK H3 1S 4SK1NG FOR YOU??

CG: WHAT IS HE DOING THERE??

CG: IS HE OKAY?

GC: WH4T DO YOU M34N

GC: H3 1SNT BL33D1NG OR 4NYTH1NG

CG: OKAY GOOD.

CG: CAN YOU KEEP AN EYE ON HIM UNTIL I GET THERE?

GC: >:[

CG: SORRY.

CG: CAN YOU KEEP HIM OUT OF TROUBLE?

GC: WH4T DO YOU TH1NK 1 4M DO1NG??

GC: >:P

GC: HURRY UP 4ND G3T DOWN H3R3

GC: 1 TH1NK H3 1S STR3SS 34T1NG ROS3’S Y4RN

GC: BUT 1 DONT TH1NK H3 L1K3S TH3 T4ST3

GC: H4H4 SUCK 1T L4LOND3 YOUR L1L4C Y4RN DO3SN’T T4ST3 4S GOOD 4S 1T SM3LLS >:]

GC: H3 1S SLURP1NG 1T L1K3 GRUBGH3TT1

CG: DAMN IT TEREZI, DON’T LET HIM EAT GARBAGE.

CG: I’LL BE RIGHT THERE.

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC] at 03:26--

  
  
  


>Karkat: Try to make sense of the situation.

  
  
  


As he hurried down the hall with the Mayor, Karkat couldn’t help but feel like he was going to owe several people explanations after all this was over. Terezi and Vriska had been in the common when the Mayor had burst in having a full-blown episode, cowering and panicking and eventually eating yarn. When Karkat finally got there, the Mayor shot at him like a bullet, clinging to Karkat’s leg and communicating frantically in his loose vocabulary of gestures. Karkat had  _ not _ liked the way Vriska had been laughing at him over it. The Mayor had obviously been upset. 

Terezi was actually concerned, and when she pieced together that it was about Dave, she wanted to come with Karkat. Thankfully, the Mayor had made it clear that only Karkat would be welcome, and Terezi had by some miracle actually let it go. Karkat supposed the Mayor had that effect on people. 

Still, after letting the Mayor ride on his back out of the common room, Karkat was certain that this little scene was going to prompt questions from the other trolls later, and probably Rose once she heard about it. Gossip traveled faster than light on this stupid meteor. 

Once they were in the secret room of Karkat’s wing of the meteor, Karkat let the Mayor off of him and watched intently for the explanation. The Mayor was flailing like crazy, and Karkat wasn’t sure if he was understanding anything correctly.

“He  _ attacked  _ you?” Karkat growled in disbelief. “With a  _ sword _ ?” He felt his blood run cold. _ It was happening, Dave had snapped, he tried to kill the Mayor, he could be coming to kill me-- _

The creeping panic began to ebb as the Mayor shook his head, palms up in front of him. Then he paused, nodded again, shrugged. 

“So by accident? He attacked you by accident?” Karkat asked for confirmation. “What does that mean?”

The Mayor thought for a moment, then brought his fists to either side of his head, popping his hands open in an exaggerated gesture. 

“You surprised him?” Karkat asked, feeling his shoulders relax somewhat. “You startled him and he came at you.”

The Mayor nodded, then resumed his posture of general worry and shakiness. He started looking around the room for things to nibble on, and Karkat numbly pulled a bag of grub snacks out of his sylladex for him. As the Mayor worked on demolishing the little bag of food, Karkat tried to process the situation. It wasn’t some kind of bloodthirsty murder-high. But he still could have  _ hurt the Mayor _ . Something needed to be done about that. Dave needed  _ help _ . Fuck, he loved the Mayor more than anyone, he was probably beating himself up like crazy. 

Karkat suddenly had the chilling thought that he might have waited too long, that Dave might have retreated to wherever his block is and that he might not come out for  _ weeks _ after something like this. His thorax physically hurt at the idea. 

He uncaptchalogued some markers and another bag of grub snacks and set them down near where the Mayor had tired himself out. “I need to go talk to Dave,” he said. 

The Mayor nodded emphatically.

“I should just go alone,” Karkat clarified, probably unnecessarily. 

The Mayor nodded again, a little faster this time. He pointed to Karkat.  _ You’re better for this.  _

Having the Mayor’s vote of confidence always helped. He was, after all, a democratically elected official. As far as Karkat understood, that was some type of powerful, unquestioned commander in his culture. Karkat gave the little guy an appreciative pat on the head and hurried on out.

  
  
  


>Karkat: Take care of your best friend. 

  
  
  


If it hadn’t been for the cans, slightly more in disarray than usual, Karkat could have been fooled into thinking everything was fine. The stale air hung still in Can Town, the banner they made still suspended from the pipes, the roads and river and trees still crisp from where they’d been redrawn on the floor and walls. Karkat’s footsteps echoed a little on the way in. He noticed, now that he was in the room, that there was a sword sitting on the floor just inside the entrance. At a guess, it had probably been thrown there. His thinkpan unhelpfully filled in several partial scenarios that might have led to that, but he didn’t slow down..

“Dave?”

As soon as he said it, Karkat caught the twitch of movement in one corner of the room. There, huddled next to the speaker in a helpless bundle of pajamas and pale blond hair, was Dave Strider. His face was down, his knees pressed to his chest, his cape wrapped around himself like a messy security blanket. He wasn’t moving, looked almost like he wasn’t even  _ breathing _ . Karkat felt something catch in his throat.

“Dave,” Karkat said again, surprising himself with how clear his voice was. “Do you hear me? I’m coming over there.”

The huddled figure of Dave seemed to tense at that, shrinking inward, and Karkat’s chest ached at the sight. If Dave had been a troll, Karkat would have been on him in an instant, shooshing and papping until he physically _ couldn’t _ feel scared or sad anymore. But Dave wasn’t a troll. Karkat wasn’t really sure what the etiquette here was. On top of that, he’d just gotten a fresh reminder of how fucking stupid he could be. There’s no way things would have turned out like this if Karkat had just kicked his weird, narcissistic memo habit sooner in the first place. It wasn’t like this could possibly be a coincidence. The thought that this might be Karkat’s fault brought a tight pain to his chest. He wanted to fix it--but hadn’t he fucked Dave up enough? Karkat wasn’t sure what the answer was.

But there were some things he did know. He knew Dave had attacked when startled, and he knew that Dave had more than one sword in his strife deck. So he approached slowly, carefully, listening to the extremely clear echo of his own footsteps the whole way. 

“I’m right here, okay?” Karkat finally crouched down in front of the large gummy speaker, in front of Dave but at an angle. “Can you talk to me?”

This close, Karkat could tell that Dave’s chest was heaving in shallow, urgent breaths that he was struggling to keep control of. His head, trembling, came up off of his forearms and he seemed to be looking at his hands. Even with his shades, he looked so incredibly lost, mouth hanging open, no words coming out. Suddenly, with a strangled, frustrated grunt, Dave made a fist and pounded it onto the concrete floor with a low but audible thud. Karkat watched him flinch from the pain of the impact. Just  _ how _ fragile were human bones, again?

“Hey whoa!” Karkat let out, instinctually reaching a hand to clasp around Dave’s. His bloodpusher made a little leap at the contact, as much out of fear of retaliation as from anything else, but he kept his hand on Dave’s. 

Dave turned his face away from Karkat, hunched over so that Karkat couldn’t look him in the eye, but he didn’t move his hand. Slowly, the fist relaxed.

“Dave,” Karkat tried again. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Dave bowed his head, wrapping his free arm tight around his knees. When Karkat’s fingers found their way toward the palm of Dave’s hand, Dave squeezed them for dear life and Karkat felt pity flood his upper thorax. He felt so  _ helpless _ . What  _ was _ this, what was he supposed to be doing to make it better?

“Is the Mayor okay?” Dave finally managed in a choked, breathless voice. He sounded like he was trying to talk around drowning.

“Yes, the Mayor is perfectly fine,” Karkat jumped in to reassure. He stroked his thumb against Dave’s hand, practically vibrating with the urge to reach his other hand up to Dave’s hair and face. “He’s okay, Dave. He’s fine. He has markers and grub snacks and he’s making a mess in the secret storage room. He’s okay.” Karkat couldn’t seem to help the repetition, he just hoped it was having the intended calming effect. For the moment, he was still fighting the urge to actually start shooshing.

“He is?” Dave asked, a little squeakily.

“Yes, he is. He’s perfectly fine. I promise, he’s okay. It’s okay, Dave.”

“No, it’s not,” Dave replied hurriedly. “I almost  _ killed _ him. I could have  _ killed _ him. I could have--” His words became gasps and his chest began to heave violently as he trembled.

“No, no, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Karkat kept repeating. He was kneeling in front of Dave, one hand in Dave’s hand, the other hovering awkwardly over Dave’s quivering form. Dave was shaking his head no and squeezing Karkat’s fingers like he would float away into space without them. He was so pitiful right then, helpless in front of him, horrified at how capable he was of hurting others. Karkat’s pulse was pounding in his head, his face tingled, the intensity of the emotion felt like it was pushing him out of his own body. “You’ll be okay, I’m here, I’m here, shhhhh…”

Before Karkat realized it, he had placed his free hand firmly on Dave’s shoulder and pulled his other hand free of Dave’s grip, letting it rest on the back of Dave’s head. He couldn’t see Dave’s eyes or reach his face, but he could feel him shaking and trembling, gasping for air. Karkat didn’t exactly understand it. It was as if he was so incredibly scared that it was pulling him apart from inside. What was going on? Was this normal? Was this what happened to humans instead of rage?

Karkat let his hand run uncertainly to the top of Dave’s back where his cape was bunched up. Was this even  _ helping? _ Dave was trembling and not saying a word. Dave wasn’t a  _ troll,  _ but all of Karkat’s instincts were screaming at him that this was what Dave needed. And Dave wasn’t stopping him, the hand at his side not making any moves to brush him away. He wasn’t telling him to fuck off, he wasn’t lashing out, and he’d been holding onto Karkat’s hand for dear life just a moment ago. 

“Shoosh, shoosh, shhh… It’s okay, Dave. I’m right here.” Karkat hoped against hope that this was right. He squeezed and rubbed at Dave’s shoulder, patted his hair back gently. Dave shuddered at the touch, and Karkat wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but he kept going. He let his thumbs explore and massage the general area on Dave’s head where he would have had horns if he were a troll. “It’s going to be okay. The Mayor’s okay. We’re okay. Sshhh. Shhhh. Shhhh.”

He kept going this way, reassuring and shooshing and touching Dave’s head and shoulders, until he noticed that the more erratic shaking was starting to subside. Then, Dave’s hand, which he’d left sitting on the floor, reached up to grab a handful of Karkat’s sleeve. Karkat froze, fearing the worst, that Dave was going to shove him away and make him stop and Karkat wouldn’t be able to do anything to help anymore. That he  _ hadn’t  _ been doing anything to help,  _ oh fuck-- _

Then, Dave tugged on Karkat’s arm, tugged it toward him. Karkat stared down at him, this tense and sweaty bundle of scarlet-clad limbs and pale, red-flushed skin, clinging to him with one hand. Dave Strider, of all people, was so undeniably  _ vulnerable _ . To Karkat it was jarring in almost the same type of way that watching walls of his hive go down, in his first hours playing the game, was jarring. Unexpected and uncomfortable. Karkat wanted more than anything to find a way to be comforting, to get whatever this hurt was to subside. But Dave was still hiding his face, wouldn’t  _ talk _ . He let go of Karkat’s sleeve and went for the front of the troll’s shirt. Karkat let Dave guide him, at first uncertain, but then quickly catching on and wrapping his arms around his friend. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Karkat kept soothing. Dave was warm in his arms, head radiating from where he was curled up around himself. It was an awkward position, Dave’s knees tucked up between them, Dave’s head still down, but Karkat didn’t mind. Dave had asked for this, the only way he seemed to be able to, and Karkat was entirely there for it. 

As he held Dave, he came to realize that the trembling had subsided, that all the motion was coming from shudders that were clearly accompanying silent sobs. Dave was crying in Karkat’s arms, and Karkat felt his insides melt with compassion for this idiot of a human being who could barely manage his own addled emotions. Karkat wanted so badly to be there with him in those feelings, for Dave to let him in. He felt his cheeks burn from embarrassment at the familiar and unwelcome intensity of his own emotions.

Karkat put his cheek on the top of Dave’s head, trying as best he could to completely envelop him in the hug. “Shhh… Shhh… I’m right here. I’m right here.”

A muffled “sorry” finally came out of the bundle of crying Dave. “‘s fucked up.”

“What’s fucked up?” Karkat asked, not moving his cheek from its place on Dave’s head. He could feel his bloodpusher pounding at finally hearing Dave’s voice. Dave just shrugged his shoulders in response, and Karkat squeezed him gently without thinking. An anxious, uncertain moment passed and Karkat lifted his head to look at Dave, not pulling away far. “Is this actually helping?”

Dave didn’t move for a long moment, then he seemed to be nodding his head a little. 

“Dave?” Karkat prodded gently for clarification.

“Yes. Yeah. Yes.” Dave’s voice was sounding a little clearer. Not by much, not by a ton, but it was something. 

“Good,” Karkat said with audible relief. “Now shhh.”

Karkat rubbed Dave’s back gently, glad that the shaking and shuddering had subsided, even if Dave was still curled up and hiding his face. The silence stretched, awkward and intimate, and Karkat was sure that Dave could feel the furious nervous pounding in Karkat’s upper thorax against Dave’s arm. But then, Karkat could feel Dave relaxing, slowly but surely, from the warm contact. This was helping, and that’s what was important. They’d have to talk later--about what had happened, about what was happening in that moment--but for the moment the only priority was making sure that Dave was  _ okay _ . Everything in Karkat’s awareness--all the anxiety and nerves--had resolved into the heartache of that one goal.

And Dave wasn’t saying anything else, just breathing, muscles slowly melting, sometimes tensing with the occasional muffled gasp. Karkat didn’t understand, but he didn’t need to yet. He rested his head back down on Dave’s soft blonde hair, ready to stay for as long as Dave needed him.

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 17.2%

  
  
  


>==>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta reader Wertiyurae for looking over this for me!
> 
> Next chapter coming soon.


	8. >Dave: Tune Karkat out about quadrants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's awfully long and a little self-indulgent. Certainly the longest chapter this fic will have. Here's hoping that if you made it this far, long, awkward conversations are your favorite.
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta reader Wertiyurae for looking over this for me!

<==<

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 15.9%

  
  
  


>Dave: Tune Karkat out about quadrants.

  
  
  


“...and I know I’ve explained that before, but I assume you weren’t paying any attention that time and completely appreciated the refresher before I get into this. See, the moirallegiance between the lowblood and the midblood in this film gets a lot of screen time…”

Karkat was really explaining something, wasn’t he.

Karkat was sitting forward on the couch in the common room, the movie was running, and he was just  _ talking _ . His eyes were alight with an energy that seemed completely out of place. The only other people in the room were Dave and Rose, neither of whom had mustered that type of enthusiasm for movie night for a while. Karkat looked so weird, all trollish and vaguely unnerving. But not in a dangerous way, exactly. He was unnerving like some kind of rare mythical creature in a fairy tale that you weren’t supposed to approach because it was bad luck. How did his weird pointy overbite not get more in the way of his rants? Did he even have ears in all that hair? And how could  _ anyone _ possibly be getting this excited about a troll chick flick? 

“...the way the midblood pines for his moirail to soothe his violent urges is continuously being paralleled with the way he longs for his would-be matesprit. Some idiots online got angry when it came out because the whole thing looked too flush for a pale coupling, and it was this huge controversy…”

Rose, god knows why, was just letting it happen from her spot in the armchair she was knitting in. Was she smirking? Was this  _ funny _ to her? Dave couldn’t decide if that was hilarious or not, mainly because he couldn’t decide who the butt of the joke was in this scenario. Before Rose could magically figure out that his obscured gaze was aimed at her, Dave tuned back into what was going on on the TV. Looked like the buff curvy-horn protagonist finally found his cuddle-boyfriend, and they’re locked what Dave could only describe as a full-on romantic embrace. There was something kind of off-putting about it, two bros just totally hugging shit out. They definitely didn’t do it like that in human flicks. Dave was pretty sure they didn’t do it like that on Earth, period.

“ _ I  _ thought it was bullshit,” Karkat was weighing in at the close of some big point he’d just made. “Pale feelings like that are totally fucking underrepresented. I mean, what idiot would watch their arc and see a  _ flushed _ romance?”

Right, yeah. This was the bromance quadrant. One out of four. After their heartfelt chat, the protagonist had a girlfriend and a hate-lover to sort out before the movie could finally end. One could call it it cultural insensitivity, but Dave maintained that troll movies were just way too fucking long. 

The music swelled and Karkat was going on about “obviously pale gestures” and Dave’s attention was back on the screen. He couldn’t be expected to focus on two things at once, and it was movie night, after all. So Dave watched the rest of the hug scene in all its overwrought glory. When that ended, he tried to pay attention for a few minutes more before finding himself spacing out again. 

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 16.2%

  
  
  


>Dave: Interrupt bodice-ripper read-along time to get some answers.

  
  
  


It was a testament to how few activities there were on the meteor that Dave had, at some point, started to get pretty curious about Karkat’s novel collection. Karkat would bring them to Can Town from time to time. Or, more accurately, he had them in his sylladex and would pull them out when nobody was talking to him but he wasn’t ready to leave yet. The covers were so hilariously over the top and the sheer number of characters involved in all the weird alien quadrant drama seemed so unnecessarily confusing. It wasn’t at all Dave’s type of thing, but as time went on and Karkat occasionally explained what he was reading, he started to gain an ironic appreciation for how stupidly overcomplicated and incomprehensibly alien it all was. 

He was really, badly hurting at the lack of anything new on TV.

So when Karkat finally offered to read to Dave out loud, Dave was into it. It turned out all his books were in “Alternian,” whatever the fuck that meant if the trolls were always speaking English to each other. In any case, Dave couldn’t usefully borrow them, which was admittedly a bummer. Not that he ever would have wanted to, much less would ever have gone through with asking. But it turned out that they were mostly full of references Dave didn’t understand and character types that didn’t seem to make any real sense. The whole thing seemed too dark and grim, overall, to be a romance story. But then, what did he know?

Dave asked questions about the troll culture stuff unless it sounded like it was going to ruin the vibe to find out. Sometimes just listening to funny troll words for a while was good enough to break up the monotony of the days. He tried not to ask about quadrants stuff, since it always seemed to set Karkat off on a huge, quasi-informative rant that Dave felt obligated to tune out halfway through. Occasionally, he made exceptions.

“ _ ‘You’re just so useless sometimes,’ Mirden admitted into the humid air of the menageratory. ‘Can’t you admit that you understand what’s going on here?’”  _ Karkat was reading from his position on the common room couch. It was just the two of them there, everyone else either on a different schedule or just elsewhere. Dave was on his back, legs up over the armrest, staring at the ceiling as Karkat kept reading. 

“ _ Tullus’s face was poised in a truly grotesque snarl, his curved horns drawing a striking silhouette against the pink moonlight filtering through the glass. Mirden was calm, stepping towards him with purpose, his bloodpusher pounding with anticipation of the catharsis to come. ‘Who made you like this? I can’t believe I have to keep intervening.’  _

_ “Tullus growled at him. ‘All I know is that everything was going the way things were meant to go, until you had to go and spoil the joke!’ _

_ Mirden gently reached a slate grey hand to Tullus’s trembling jowls. ‘Oh Tullus. I can tell when you’re not truly laughing.’ He put all his intentions into one firm, lingering touch from Tullus’s temple down to his jaw, feeling the tension--”  _ Dave was clearing his throat, head tipped back to look at Karkat, and Karkat stopped. “Something to say?”, he asked in his usual, low-key defensive speaking tone.

“So, alright, get ready and listen up. This is the one and only time you’re going to hear me ask this, but I got some trollmance questions.” It definitely wasn’t, but Dave didn’t want to create the impression that he was remotely sincerely interested in this stuff. He knew from experience that ironic appreciation didn’t always go over so great with Karkat, and quadrant stuff was kind of a big deal with the guy. 

Karkat just rolled his eyes theatrically. “Just spit it out.”

“Why is my man whiney-piney getting all pap-happy on the big angry guy? I thought he was hating on him a minute ago.” Dave had actually been wondering this for a while, and it was starting to get in the way of understanding what the fuck was going on. Without getting some clarification, the experience was just going to devolve into listening to Karkat make random words for its own definitely-ironic sake. 

“ _ What?”  _ Karkat balked. “Their moirallegiance is the main thread running through the  _ entire book _ .”

Dave carefully avoided looking at Karkat as he stared at the ceiling, hands resting on his own sternum. “You said I could ask questions, bro.”

“I explained this already! Do you even fucking listen?” 

“Alright, you don’t have to tell me.”

Karkat made a huffy frustrated noise, flipping back in the book. “Fuck. Fine! Here, remember this passage?” He paused to find his spot and read, “ _ Mirden was still holding the carvershears he’d been using to prune the flora, clutching the tool worriedly between them. He hadn’t meant to yell. He wasn’t out to antagonize him like the others did. He was sure that the highblood had needed to hear what he’d had to say: the way the others spoke of him behind his back, the fledgling plot against him by the young threshecutioner. Anger filled Mirden’s bosom at the thought of how easily Tullus could be cornered by his lessers, at the thought of him collapsing under his own weaknesses.” _

Dave hadn’t really remembered that passage. Maybe he was listening a little more than he had been before. Still, though. “Yeah, I mean, he sounds pretty fucking fed up with the other guy.”

“That’s--Wow, Dave.” Karkat was shaking his head. Dave wasn’t the biggest fan of how much it sounded like Karkat  _ actually _ thought he was an idiot, but in all fairness, quadrants weren’t exactly his thing. Karkat continued, “No, he’s thinking about what he would advise Tullus about, what kind of situations he would nudge him away from. He’s  _ pitying _ Tullus.”

Okay, Dave definitely knew this one. “That’s like troll-love, right? Only… the cuddlebro kind?”

“That’s not what moirallegiance is, you--for fuck’s sake, Dave, have you even being paying attention? It’s a romantic expression of pacification between trolls,” Karkat barked out in his lecture voice, “It’s fucking beautiful, and it’s a goddamn pity--the  _ human _ kind--that you can’t grasp it in your loose, leaky fucking thinkpan.”

Dave propped himself up on his elbows and twisted to look at Karkat right-side-up. “Dude, you are making  _ no _ sense. Did you say something about pacifiers just then?”

Karkat looked at Dave like he was an idiot, and he spoke as though he were explaining things to a wiggler. “I don’t know if you noticed it, but trolls can be kind of dangerous. Dangerous trolls sometimes need pacifying. Like all the papping you see in movies? What the fuck did you  _ think _ that was for?”

Dave had maybe picked up that there might be something he was missing about the whole shooshpap thing, but it was easier not to admit that he’d given it any thought at all. He shrugged. “I just thought it was a weird alien thing you do when your girlfriend cries.”

Karkat gave him a withering look, yellow eyes narrowing. “Seriously, motherfucker? Did you ever even think--ugh. Like, look. Tullus is a highblood with… violent types of urges. As his moirail, Mirden is going to comfort him, and as a result Tullus is able to think clearly enough to... be merciful in the next chapter. That’s all I want to say. I don’t want to spoil  _ all _ of it.”

Dave swung his legs around to sit normally as Karkat glared at him from his gollum-like posture curled up on the other side. Dave considered some of the gruesome scenes he’d failed to avoid absorbing earlier, and considered the obvious implications of words like “violent” and “merciful.” He knew he should try to respect everyone’s culture aboard this crazy mixed-up salad bowl flying through space, but that seemed like too much. “ _ That’s _ your idea of romance? Stopping your boyfriend from getting too murder-y? That’s fucked up.” 

“Way to shit all over my quadrants and by extension my culture, dipshit. Pacification of violent trolls is vital to a functional society, and moirallegiance is a beautiful thing that allows two trolls who are drawn together to keep each other calm and in check. How in the fuck is that not romantic?”

Dave didn’t really have anything to say about romance, but he did feel some pieces of information connect in his head in a fresh, clear way. “...Oh, shit,  _ that’s _ what your thing was with Gamzee?  _ Dude _ . Was it seriously your job to stop him from killing people?”

When he saw Karkat’s face change, he immediately regretted the comment. He knew that trolls had this weird, blase attitude about murder, and generally speaking he tried to tiptoe around it. He also knew that there had been twelve trolls when all this started, and he tried to tiptoe around that, too. But sometimes around Karkat, he just let that shit fall right out of his mouth. With Karkat’s eyebrows going from lecture-angry to angry-angry, Dave could sense that this was the wrong issue to be messing with. 

“ _ What?! _ Setting aside how much that is an egregious oversimplification and not even remotely accurate, I don't seem to fucking remember inviting you to comment! It is absolutely motherfucking  _ none _ of your business. Don’t run your fucking mouth about shit you don’t understand and  _ weren’t there for _ .” Karkat glared at him over that, and Dave supposed fair was fair on that one. “Did it ever maybe occur to you that I maybe  _ don’t need to think about that particular chapter of this fucking space adventure?!”  _

“Yep, good point, bro.”

“It has been  _ so fucking great _ enjoying a fucking  _ novel  _ without having to remember any of the tragically grotesque and  _ grotesquely tragic  _ consequences of my previous attempts to fill quadrants! Right up until this fucking moment, I had no idea how good I fucking had it, not having to  _ remember any of that shit! _ ” Karkat’s voice was getting louder. He wasn’t showing any signs of slowing his roll. 

“Dude, are you okay?” Dave let out, a little exasperated.

Karkat stopped mid-rant, perhaps just because he hit a natural lull. His pointed teeth were glinting in his open mouth. He squinted at Dave in something like confusion. 

“‘Cause clearly this is a hot-button kind of thing for you, and you’re spiralling out on me. You good?”

“What ‘hot button’? I’m completely fucking  _ cool, _ and you can  _ suck my fat bulge _ , you preposterous fucking  _ asshole _ .” Karkat gave the paperback a solid thwack against the side of the couch.

“Yeah, because punishing the couch with your bro porn totally screams ‘cool.’”

Karkat heaved a long-suffering sigh. Or maybe he took a deep breath on purpose, to get himself together. “Can we please just stop dredging up ancient fucking history and go back to the goddamn book?” 

There was a moment while Dave sat in silence and Karkat stared him down, watching to see if he’d drop the subject, when it really seemed like he would. Karkat looked for his spot in the book they were reading, and he even settled back down in his spot, brow only slightly furrowed from the residual anger.

For some reason, Dave felt compelled to open his mouth. “Dude, for what it’s worth, I bet you were an awesome monorail and clowntroll didn’t know how good he had it. Even if it sounds kind of fucked up to begin with.”

“Okay! We’re done!” Karkat announced, standing and holding the book up to captchalogue it. “Clearly we aren’t getting anywhere here!”

“Really?” Dave let himself smirk. “I could’ve finished the chapter, but I guess if you’re done that’s fine.”

Karkat glared at him, but he didn’t put the book away, and he did sit back down.

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 17.2%

  
  
  


>Karkat: Pick your moment and go for it.

  
  
  


His bloodpusher had been pounding so hard in his thorax for so long that Karkat was starting to get used to the nervous, buzzing sensation spreading through him. He hadn’t slept--what else was new?--and he’d been spending the time second-guessing himself and worrying. Karkat couldn’t stop replaying every moment from the previous day’s crisis in his head. How vulnerable Dave had been, how scared Karkat had been, how Dave had pulled him in and  _ wanted his help _ . Even after that fiasco with the memos and all the awful, stupid shit Karkat had said. There was no doubt that Dave was still mad about that, but Karkat tried to focus on the true and hopeful fact that his support hadn’t been rejected outright. Everything that Karkat knew from years of books and movies and daydreams told him that there was never going to be a better time to get Dave in his pale quadrant.

Not that he was forgetting that Dave didn’t exactly  _ have _ a pale quadrant. But did that honestly matter? More than anything, Karkat just wanted to be sure that he and Dave could take care of each other on this long and miserable voyage. The void was eating away at the edges of all their thinkpans. Karkat didn’t want to watch it eat away at Dave for good.

So Karkat had left Dave to sleep off the aftermath of whatever his strange human episode had been, spent the following several hours rehearsing what he had to say in his head, and returned to Dave’s block as promised to a groggy, grimacing Dave. Dave was in the same pajamas he’d gone to bed in, plus shades, which Karkat assumed he didn’t actually sleep in. His hair was an uncharacteristically disheveled mess on his head, and with a pang of pale affection it had occurred to Karkat that Dave actually combed his hair every day. He looked absolutely exhausted. 

Perched awkwardly in Dave’s desk chair, one foot tucked up beneath him, Karkat felt his confidence ebbing. His ears felt warm in the nest of his hair. He was sitting in someone else’s block, had invited himself there, and it felt like an intrusion. Everything was messy here, from clutter on dusty surfaces to trash piles to the clumped up snuggleplane on the sleeping platform. He thought about what he’d wanted to say, about friendship, about feelings, about moirallegiance, but he was coming up empty. All he could think about was how uncharacteristically defeated Dave looked. The reality of having Dave in front of him, of confronting him about the exact type of shit that Dave liked to squirm away from, was making Karkat actually feel a little guilty. He knew he shouldn’t be. Confronting the situation head-on was unequivocally the right thing to do. If Dave had been a troll, Karkat would have already been yelling at him about waving his sword around at his friends like an idiot. But then, if Dave had been a troll, he probably wouldn’t have had some kind of crying fit over it, either. And he didn’t particularly look like he could handle getting yelled at.

“You look like shit,” Karkat went with.

“Gee thanks,” Dave retorted, but it was cut off by a yawn. “I could’ve slept more, you know.”

Karkat frowned, never really in the mood to listen to anyone else’s insomnia problems. “I waited eight hours after I left. If you didn’t take the opportunity to sleep, that’s your problem.” He felt stiff. His feelings were twisting and pulsing inside him, and if he didn’t start getting some answers they were going to burst straight out of his head. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck that was last night?”

Dave looked like he was grimacing a little, or making whatever passed for a grimace on Dave. “Have you seen the Mayor?”

Of course that would be Dave’s first priority. It was honestly reassuring. “He’s fine. I checked on him this morning,” Karkat said cautiously. It was true. The little guy was still pretty rattled, and he had some choice gestures about the whole situation, but most of those had had to do with the safety of the citizenry. He seemed more worried about Dave than upset at him, which Karkat wasn’t really sure how to interpret. He stared intently at Dave’s face, trying to get a read on him, which was predictably impossible. “He says no more weapons in Can Town, but he understands that it was an accident. It’s okay.”

Dave let out a breath that Karkat hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The set of his mouth changed, he unclenched a fist half-hidden in his blanket. It dawned on Karkat how tense he’d been a moment ago. Karkat couldn’t imagine trying so hard to hide his every feeling, and more than that, he couldn’t imagine succeeding as frustratingly often as Dave. It was like talking about feelings with a wall.

“I was gonna maybe stay away for a while.” Dave said, voice just a little awkward, “Give the Mayor some time away from my mug shot.”

The walls of Dave’s block were grey and a little rough, like a cement brick that had seen better days. As far as Karkat could tell, Dave was studying the grooves in the wall behind his sleeping platform with keen interest. Karkat could feel his pulse in his throat as he looked at him. 

“The Mayor loves you,” Karkat stated as the immutable fact that it was. “You know that. He also couldn’t hold a grudge if his life depended on it.”

Dave winced at that. “Hell of a choice of phrasing there.”

Karkat supposed that it was, but he went on, “You didn’t even actually  _ hurt _ him. If we were on Alternia, this type of thing would already be forgotten.” Karkat’s tone was grim. But however he felt about it, it was simply a fact. By any reasonable standard, nothing truly serious had actually happened. “The Mayor is absolutely  _ fine _ , and he’s worried about you.” He paused a fraction of a second. “ _ I’m _ worried about you.”

“Uh, thanks?” Dave responded awkwardly. He shifted his position, pulling one knee up onto the bed in this intentionally-casual way. It looked for all the world like he wanted to abscond, for some reason, from the very idea of his friends caring about him. 

Karkat rearranged his limbs in the chair, draping his arms over the armrests, and tried again.“What exactly  _ happened _ ? The Mayor told me he startled you and you attacked him. Then when I found you, you were… definitely not capable of attacking anything. What  _ was _ that?”

“I dunno, just something that happens, I guess.”

“Happens, as in more than once?” Karkat leaned forward on his elbows. Dave’s face wasn’t changing. He was being so incredibly  _ still _ ; it was  _ maddening _ that he could just  _ do _ that.

“I don’t know. I don’t think we have to get into it. It was cool of you to, uh, help. But like, if we’re being all sincere here, then honestly I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”

Karkat just stared at him.  _ What? _ Dave wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were trained on the wall. Was he being serious? Had he just grabbed on to the first warm body that was willing to comfort him? Karkat could feel something cold spreading in his stomach. 

“Did you want me to just leave you alone when I found you yesterday?” Karkat asked, tone tense.

“No? Yes? I don’t know.” Dave’s voice started to shake, and he swallowed. “It wasn’t exactly my coolest moment. Obviously. Can we maybe just forget about it?”

Suddenly, Karkat was certain he’d misread the situation. Yes, Dave had wanted him around last night, that had been painfully obvious. But now it seemed like he sincerely fucking regretted it. And of course he did. Nobody should want Karkat as a moirail. Why did they even want him as a friend? He’d fucked up as a leader, he’d fucked up with Gamzee, and he’d even fucked up Dave by messing with timeline stuff. Karkat looked down at his hands in his lap, crushed by the weight of insecurity.

“Is this because of what I did with the memos? Is that why you don’t want to talk to me?”

Karkat braced himself for some kind of awkward deflection that really meant “yes,” but it didn’t come.

Instead, Dave looked at him. “Dude, no. Don’t even worry about that shit.” He paused when Karkat gave him a disbelieving look. “Okay, yeah, those were not my favorite conversations that I ever had with you. Storm of the century, Hurricane Karkat, and I couldn’t exactly evacuate. But I get it. Shit’s heavy, and nobody understands, and you did what you had to do, I guess?”

“Pardon me if that sounds like hoofbeast manure. You were  _ furious _ with me, and when I left you alone I came back to… what I came back to. I didn’t fucking pupate yesterday, Strider. Obviously they’re at least a little related.”

Dave shifted in his seat, putting his elbows against his knees in a slouchy way that made him look truly done with Karkat’s shit. “But it’s  _ not _ . You didn’t make me take a nap in Can Town. Sure I was fucking mad, but I sorta kinda nearly killed the Mayor since then, and my brain has way better priorities than you’re giving it credit for.” Karkat couldn’t help but feel put off by the flippant tone in which Dave talked about nearly killing the Mayor. It reminded him of how Vriska or Terezi would talk about killing people, especially in their FLARPing days, and it made his stomach turn. He knew, rationally, that it wasn’t the same. Dave wasn’t okay with what had happened, he just couldn’t talk without sounding like an asshole.

Karkat puffed out a frustrated sigh. “Then why not tell me what  _ happened _ ?”

“It’s not like I  _ have _ to,” Dave retorted automatically. “It’s not that important.”

“ _ What? _ ” Karkat stared at him. Was this a Dave thing or a human thing to be so incredibly dense? What was Karkat supposed to say to that? Of course Dave didn’t  _ have _ to, but in this kind of situation, Karkat had every right to make him talk anyway. It was incredible how much Dave managed to make him miss Alternian etiquette, of all things. Unsure what to do instead, Karkat just glared at Dave until he kept speaking.

Dave rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. “Hey, if I’m being totally up-front, I’m actually pretty embarrassed about the other day, and I’d really rather not have to rehash that whole experience. Like, don’t get me wrong, I almost killed the Mayor and I have some pretty heavy thinking to do on how incredibly fucked up that was of me, but the rest of it was, uh. Not cool in ways I’m maybe hoping I don’t need to be put on trial for.”

“Excuse me, motherfucker?” Karkat couldn’t believe it. Was Dave seriously expecting to just… not talk about his episode? Even though it could obviously happen again and someone could  _ actually _ get hurt this time? Even though Karkat was right there and  _ willing _ ?

Dave shrugged like he was saying the most reasonable words that had ever been spoken. “I’m just sayin’, maybe we could just not mention me snottin’ up your shirt, or anything kind of adjacent to that in the total meltdown department.”

“Ex _ cuse _ me?”

Dave pointed his classic, cool, guarded gaze at him. “You’re excused, man. You can leave the dinner table if you wa--” 

Karkat cut him off. He was  _ pissed _ . He was  _ fed up _ with dancing around Dave’s bizarre self-flagellating shame at having actual emotions. They were doing this, this was happening, and if Dave wanted him to fuck off he was going to have to wait until they had  _ hashed this the fuck out _ . He was on his feet before he knew it, gesticulating as he talked. 

“I’m just going to fucking pretend you didn’t say any of that ridiculous nonsense, because it didn’t make the least bit of sense. It was like you just vomited out words at random and they landed in a predictably shitty order. We are  _ going _ to talk about it! I came here to  _ talk about it _ . Because  _ you _ \--” he pointed at Dave accusingly, “--are doing a terrible fucking job of dealing with whatever shit is clogging your pan on your own.  _ I _ am fucking volunteering to wade around that shit with you, because as of yesterday’s incident, I am making the executive fucking decision that you need  _ someone _ to talk to. Otherwise, you are clearly just going to keep shoving your stupid  _ ridiculous _ human feelings back down your own windhole until, one day, they--along with every flimsy human organ you have-- _ blow out your waste chute and completely fucking wreck everything on the way out.” _

Dave sat in stunned silence as Karkat caught his breath in front of him. He actually had the decency to  _ look _ stunned. 

“Nothing to say?” Karkat challenged. “Are you going to stop shoving your putrid empty excuses under my cartilaginous nub and just fucking  _ talk  _ to me?”

For a moment, Karkat thought that would be it. He thought maybe all he had truly had to do was put his strut pod down, once and for all. That maybe Dave  _ did _ want to talk, behind all the layers of moobeast shit spread on like a complicated oil painting. But as he watched Dave’s face smooth over, his posture shift, his arms cross, Karkat could feel the hopeful sentiment slip away.

When Dave spoke, his voice was as transparently defensive as his posture. “Why? So you can rake me over the coals over every humiliating moment of the last fucking day? Pass, dude.”

Karkat couldn’t help but deflate somewhat from that. Dave wasn’t rambling on and on to get Karkat off his back, evading every scrap of sincerity with gleeful irony. He was just pushing the door closed in Karkat’s face, inch by inch. But why? If Dave actually wanted him to leave, he could just say that. He hadn’t had to let Karkat in in the first place. What even  _ was _ this? “Believe it or not, I’m actually  _ worried _ about you, you nook sniffer. I am basically in a perpetual state of being worried about you, in fact.” He shifted in his seat at the partial admission. He was pretty certain that Dave wouldn’t recognize a pale solicitation unless Karkat put a clear label on it for him, but saying shit like that still sent something fluttering up Karkat’s fluster chute.

“Yeah?” Dave deadpanned at him. “Is that new since you chewed me out over, I dunno, being bros with the Mayor? And not being as hot as the guy who plays Marty McFly, which,  _ dude _ . Where did that even  _ come _ from?” 

Karkat felt himself shrink. That was a fair point. He grimaced and threw a hand up in a helpless, frustrated gesture. “Okay! I may have had some lapses in worrying about you! But those were some very fucking dark moments, and I was in a shitty place, and I fucking apologize! Okay? I am sorry for being a shitty friend and yelling at you from the past. All my past and future selves are fucking  _ assholes _ and I’m an asshole too! Purrbeast is out of the motherfucking containment sack.”

Dave frowned. “Dude, you seriously need to reevaluate how you talk about yourself. Shit is unhealthy. Maybe clean up your own trash before you try to come over here and tell me how to live my life?”

“That’s not how  _ any _ of this fucking works, you moron. Just…” Karkat sighed an exasperated, steadying sigh. They could talk in circles about Karkat’s fuck-ups all night, but that wasn’t what Karkat had come here for. “Come on, Strider. The last time I saw you, you needed my help just to make it back to your fucking  _ block _ , and you still wouldn’t even look me in the  _ eye _ . Which was fine, because I fucking wanted to be there for you. Because you make me… worry about you. Excuse me for feeling just a little bit entitled to an explanation! How incredibly fucking selfish of me.”

“I mean, kind of,” Dave shot back a little too fast.  _ Oh.  _ Karkat felt his bloodpusher sink, and judging by Dave’s expression, he could tell. “Actually. Uh. What  _ did _ you mean when you were sayin’ that shit about me and the Mayor, back then?”

“Oh, fuck,” Karkat groaned, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes, curling in on himself and bringing his feet off the ground. The desk chair slowly rotated an inch or two. He should have been expecting this question, but in all actual fact he hadn’t been. “I was just being an asshole. Can we please just drop that?”

Dave shrugged. “Hey, you wanted to talk, and you obviously had something to say about it, so. Spit it out.”

“It was a total fucking overreaction. The Mayor loves you, okay? It’s just… he’s just a mayor. He’s just an ‘elected official,’ whatever that is. He can’t handle complex emotional baggage.” Karkat looked away from Dave uncomfortably. He really didn’t want to have to tell Dave that yesterday hadn’t actually been the first time he’d seen Dave completely lose his cool like that. He didn’t want to bring up how pale Dave acted around the Mayor, or how much it seemed from Karkat’s vantage point that the Mayor wasn’t entirely interested in that. Karkat tried to remember that he was the only one seeing it that way, that Dave and the Mayor weren’t trolls, but this still smacked too much of having to tell a friend their crush wasn’t into them. 

“Did he tell you that?” Dave asked, voice a little high.

“Yeah, he did. We do talk about you sometimes, you know. He actually thinks, uh, I might be better. At being there when you, uh, you know.” Karkat fumbled his way to the end of the sentence. Another not-quite-confession. He needed to get to it, or he would lose his nerve and they would be at this for hours.

“He said that?” Dave replied as if automatically. Karkat watched Dave curl his hand into a fist in the blanket next to him. It was a rather anxious gesture. When Karkat was paying attention, it was getting easier to catch Dave Strider actually emoting. 

“Yes. In a way. You know how the Mayor is.” Dave gave a little nod of assent. He didn’t look immediately horrified by the idea, at least. Karkat took a breath and pressed forward. “That’s actually a big part of why I came here, so maybe I should just get to it.” Karkat sat forward in the desk chair and looked right at Dave, tried to look through his shades at his eyes. “Dave, what do you remember about moirallegiance?”

  
  
  


>Dave: Avoid addressing your own bullshit.

  
  
  


It was hard to keep a neutral face at that. Dave’s heart picked up its pace in his chest. Karkat was staring at him so intensely that Dave started to get that feeling he got when his glasses were off. He hadn’t exactly been expecting it, that moment, but once Karkat asked that question it made perfect sense. Karkat was going to ask him to be his moirail.  _ Shit, _ Karkat was going to ask him to be his moirail. 

He had an instinct to make an “ironically” homophobic comment or a nasty deflection but they died on his tongue. Karkat’s face was so transparently nervous that he may as well have actually confessed just then. A heavy, conspicuous warmth was spreading through Dave’s chest. What was he supposed to say? What  _ did _ he remember about moirallegiance? 

He didn’t want to admit it, but he remembered some things. He actually remembered a lot of things. Karkat had been laying it on pretty thick with palebro-focused movies, not to mention the book they were slowly but surely chipping away at. Suddenly that was making a lot of sense, and Dave wasn’t sure how to feel about the stealth-education, especially since it had clearly worked.

He remembered the hugging in the movies, dudes just sharing some sincere platonic affection in the face of life’s struggles. It had been so strange, and decidedly not as gay as it should have been, and Dave couldn’t help but find that more than a little interesting. Not that he’d ever wanted to admit that to himself. Who was into hugs? That was a weird thing to be into on any level. But it wasn’t just the hugging. He remembered that there were feelings jams involved, and he even remembered that that was what trolls called them. He remembered distinctly that it wasn’t one of the sex quadrants. That one was a bit of a relief right now, though something in his chest twisted nervously at the thought. He remembered something about pacifying bloodthirsty trolls. That gave him pause. He  _ had _ nearly killed the Mayor the other night. That was why Karkat was there. That was why Karkat was trying to get all pale with him? Dave wasn’t sure how to take that.

“Not much,” Dave responded calmly after a whirlwind moment of thinking hard on the subject and steadying his voice. “Why do you ask?” As if there were that many potential answers to that question. 

“Seriously, Strider?” Karkat frowned at him. “I was hoping  _ something _ would stick.” He rubbed at his forehead with one hand, pushing out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Let me try to fucking use small words.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Dave. “ _ You _ seemed to be losing your thinkpan since you got here. I was worried at first that you’d hurt yourself or someone else, and then I dropped my guard, and you nearly took out the Mayor.” 

Dave winced at that behind his shades. Great. So he was fucking dangerous.

“You obviously need to talk about what’s bothering you.” Karkat’s eyes shone nervously. “I don’t want you to be alone with whatever garbage your pan is assaulting you with that makes you lock yourself in this fucking trash dungeon.” 

Trash dungeon was actually a pretty good description of the place lately. Couldn’t argue with that one bit. But it was  _ his _ trash dungeon, goddamnit. What was wrong with rotting in it for a few years until people needed him again? Well, maybe there was actually something wrong with that, from a certain perspective. 

“I know it was fucked up of me to abuse the timeline function of Trollian like that, and I know you don’t ‘get’ quadrants,” Karkat paused there bitterly. “But… it looks really fucking obvious to me that you need a moirail. If you were a troll, I wouldn’t even give you a choice after what happened yesterday. I wouldn’t think twice about getting in your business. You’d need to physically fucking remove me from said business, with excessive fucking force. But you’re  _ not _ a fucking troll, and we were doing the human friendship thing, and I’d already fucked up with your future self--I guess,  _ you _ \--over Trollian, so I--fuck. What I mean is, I think I should be your moirail.”

Dave’s heart was hammering in his chest. But it’s not like it was a super gay crushing-on-Karkat kind of heart-hammering. It was like a fight-or-flight reaction to how vulnerable and determined Karkat’s face looked. It made Dave feel like he needed to reciprocate or Karkat might straight-up implode. He was really trying to hold eye contact with Dave’s shades and not look scared or awkward, and he still looked pretty awkward, but Dave was surprised by how steady Karkat was. He was straight-up sincerely confronting his bro about his honest, not-in-the-least ironic emotions. Literally or not, Dave wasn’t sure, but Karkat had some serious balls. 

“What do you mean, I ‘need’ a moirail?” Dave found himself asking. Too late, he realized he’d actually used the word instead of feigning ignorance of the pronunciation. He could feel the hum of nervous energy in his chest, rising in anticipation of how sincere he was going to have to be when he finally had to give Karkat an answer. In his head, alarm bells were already ringing because some part of him knew what that answer would be. He just wasn’t ready for that.

Karkat, for his part, looked like he hadn’t really been expecting the follow-up question. It wasn’t that he was stumped; it just looked like he was actually fucking  _ flustered _ . Dave supposed that his shades and his even keel were probably not helping the situation for Karkat, and he had the decency to feel slightly guilty about it.

“I mean you need someone to talk to. Whatever’s going on with you, it’s only a matter of time before it gets completely fucking out of hand. It already  _ has _ .” Karkat was looking at him with something incredibly like pity, and it made Dave uncomfortable. “You  _ attacked _ one of our friends. I can’t let that just happen again.” 

Dave frowned. “So this is just because I fucked up yesterday, and you feel like you need to, what, keep everyone  _ safe _ from me?”

Karkat’s eyes went wide and his hands went up. “No! Fucking  _ no! _ Jesus, Dave, I fucking  _ care _ about you. If anything you’re a danger to your fucking  _ self _ if you don’t let  _ someone _ into that confusing wreckage you call an emotional landscape.”

It was nerve-wracking to have someone worry about him. It felt like something he was supposed to like, but that had given him food poisoning once in the distant past. Where  _ had _ Dave heard something like this before? Oh. Right. “You fucking sound like Rose.”

“Maybe she had a good fucking point! Actually,  _ obviously _ she did. Even the Mayor agrees with her. We’re all your fucking friends. Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t need anyone all up in my shit, psychoanalyzing and whipping out the Freud-speak, telling me how shitty a childhood I had or how many of my dreams mean I wanna bang my mom.” Dave was aware that Karkat wouldn’t be able to decipher most of that, but he was hoping it would let him squirm a little further from sincerity for a moment longer. 

Karkat, meanwhile, was glowering at him like he had insulted his honor and kicked his dog all in one go. 

“ _ Fine _ . You need to keep being an idiot about your feelings?” He was on his feet, pacing. “You want to throw shitty Earth references at me all fucking night? How about you at least clue me the fuck in when you’re going to go full Strider-meltdown? Because I don’t exactly love the radio silence on your end when you lock yourself in here for days. I don’t love fucking hearing that the  _ Mayor _ is looking for me because you fucking  _ attacked _ him!” Karkat punctuated his point by kicking ineffectually at an empty box of cheese crackers, which landed hollowly about a foot away. Karkat just kept stomping. 

“Dude,  _ chill _ .” Dave stood and made a placating gesture at the troll stomping around his trash dungeon.

Karkat turned on him, scowling, and the next thing Dave knew he had a claw pointing at his sternum and yellow eyes glowering into his. “And, while we’re at it,” he basically yelled into Dave’s face, “I don’t love having to fucking  _ wonder _ if you actually  _ want _ me to be there to pick up the pieces when you lose your shit or not. Or did you think it was fun just watching you fucking  _ collapse in on yourself _ while I was trying to figure out how the  _ fuck  _ to make it stop?”

“Can you stop  _ yelling _ \--”

“Or if you even--if you even  _ wanted _ me to? I’m totally in the dark here, Dave. Flailing around until I inevitably trip over my own fucking embarrassing attempts at pale comfort and crack my nugbone trying to understand what you fucking  _ want _ from me. Is that what you fucking want?”

Karkat’s finger was jabbing into him as Karkat emphasized his words, and Dave could feel a bruise threatening to form. He put his hands on Karkat’s shoulders and tried to push him away without starting anymore shit, but something Karkat said gave him pause. “Dude, are you serious?”

“Do I  _ sound _ like I am fucking joking?” Karkat was still scowling, but he let his finger drop and let Dave push him back. 

Dave let his hands fall, and they were just awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, close enough that Dave could feel the warmth coming off of Karkat. Dude was  _ seething _ . “Dude. Of course I, uh, wanted you there. I mean, it was fucking humiliating and I never want to talk about it again, but. It would’ve sucked a lot more if you didn’t--yeah.”

Karkat groaned his frustration at that, diggin his fingers into his own hair to relieve some of the tension. “Why does it have to be humiliating for you? Why are you humans so weird and backwards about your emotional needs?”

“Striders don’t bother people with that gay shit,” Dave replied with no small touch of irony. Karkat pinned him with an unamused look and looked like he was about to get started again. Dave’s head was throbbing. It hadn’t stopped hurting since the moment he’d woken up. He stepped back and sat down. “Alright, look, my head is killing me so will you please just lay off already? We’ve all been through shit, I’m not special. It’s not like you were in any big hurry to talk to me about stuff. Present me at the time, I mean. Speaking of which, I knew you were tightly-wound, but I had no idea how fucking  _ bad _ it was, dude. I oughta be yelling at  _ you _ .”

Karkat looked guilty at that, which really just meant that he looked defensive, and sat back down. “Yeah, okay, maybe I’m not perfect at managing my own miserable wreck of a thinkpan or the shit it makes me do. But I didn’t exactly know I was supposed to talk to you about it. You don’t exactly make it easy.”

He had a point there. Dave felt bad about it. He really did want to be a good friend. He wanted Karkat to be able to count on him, to talk to him. They were on a flying rock whose only inhabitants were totally-fucked-up end-of-the-world survivors. Bros had to stick together. Dave looked at Karkat, sitting slumped in his chair, nerves tangible around him and something defeated setting in. Dave was still avoiding giving him a clear answer on the moirallegiance thing, and by the hunched posture of his shoulders and the downcast tilt of his eyes, he imagined Karkat was feeling it. 

Dave found his mouth dry when he went to speak. “Yeah… fuck. I guess I kind of meant to. Make it easier, I mean.”

“Me too,” Karkat agreed, quieter than expected. 

Dave felt something in his chest squeeze, watching Karkat wring his grey hands in his lap. Karkat’s eyes were trying to meet his, large and yellow and starkly in contrast with the slate skin of his face. Dave wasn’t sure what kind of expression Karkat was finding on his face at the moment. It was an odd moment. For the first time, they were together on the same page about something unexpectedly crucial.

If he were truly being honest, then letting Karkat push him into talking about things wasn’t the most awful thing. He’d spent too many long, dark days hiding in his block steeped in his own broken feelings to be able to deny that being alone with that shit  _ sucked _ . That didn’t mean he was physically capable of making it easy for himself, and he was paying the price in awkward silences and difficult feelings. 

Karkat was just sort of staring at him awkwardly, and for a few seconds the only sound in the room came from the dusty ventilation. 

  
  
  


>Dave: Get multicultural about moirallegiance.

  
  
  


“...so that was a diamonds thing?” Dave was carefully studying his laundry pile on the floor. “What you did last night. And I guess coming here today too?”

“That was a pale thing, yes,” Karkat said, voice guarded. “And I’m literally asking you to be my moirail, so yes, good job, Dave, you caught on to the fundamental purpose of this conversation.” He paused. “If you’re going to reject me, just do it already.”

Dave froze. Of course he didn’t want to reject him. But that meant… fuck. “Dude, the last twenty four hours have been kind of a shitty ride, cut me some slack.”

In his peripheral vision, Karkat was burying his face in his hand, adopting the unmistakable posture of self-deprecation. “You’re not even remotely interested, are you? Fuck. You humans don’t even  _ understand _ moirallegiance, what the fuck was I even thinking? You don’t need my ridiculous fucking feelings on your nutrition plateau when you’re recovering from some sort of personal malfunction.”

Dave winced. That wasn’t what he had been going for. “Okay, Karkat,  _ seriously _ take it down a notch. It’s not, uh, one of the smooching quadrants, is it?” He knew it wasn’t. He wasn’t sure why he was even asking, but he wasn’t sure how these conversations were supposed to go to begin with. 

Karkat looked up to glare at him. “Seriously?  _ No. _ Sorry if that’s a disappointment.”

“No offense dude, but I do  _ not _ swing that way. I was just checking.” Dave paused as Karkat rolled his eyes at him again. An anxious itch bugged at the back of his mind, but he deemed it irrelevant and forcibly pushed it down. Sure, all the quadrants were “romantic” to trolls, but trolls also thought fighting and hating each other was romantic. What did “romantic” even mean, at a certain point? Dave was sure there were things that were “romantic” for Karkat that weren’t necessarily “gay” for a human. A dude could totally, say, hug other dudes without it being gay. Maybe it might even be kind of a more normal thing. Maybe even, if Dave were more like a troll, more like  _ Karkat _ , he could even want that kind of thing without having some huge complex about it. 

So maybe that could be okay.

Dave started again. “So like… basically, you want us to talk more. And like, I don’t know, hug like in troll romcoms or something like that?”

Karkat was hiding his face again. “God, I can’t tell if that’s seriously your best understanding of moirallegiance or if you’re just being dense. I mean, that’s not… wrong?”

“What am I missing?” Dave knew he was missing something. 

Karkat looked thoughtful, and then he just looked serious. “If I think you’re doing anything to harm yourself or anyone else, I  _ will _ intervene.” He holds eye contact for a moment before his eyes seem to fall on a collection of dirty coffee mugs on the desk, and his face softens. “That includes this garbage block of yours and your attempts to hide yourself in it periodically.”

“What if I like my garbage where it is?”

“Then ha ha no, that’s clearly bullshit,” Karkat deadpanned. 

“Says the dude who lives with a pile of horns,” Dave shot back, thankful for the lapse into normalcy.

“I cleaned those out some time ago, actually. My block is perfectly fucking tidy.” Karkat paused, face turning serious. “But also, you have to hold up your end. I can’t do another shitty one-sided moirallegiance.”

Dave had no idea what that meant. “You mean I have to get prissy about your garbage block?”

Karkat hesitated. “I mean you have to make your own effort. I’m not your lusus. I can’t constantly be trying to keep track of where you are and what you’re fucking doing because you suddenly can’t be trusted. Or keep caring about you while you fuck off to who knows where because you’re  _ mad _ at me or fucking  _ spaced out on sopor _ and just not answering your fucking communication device until someone’s already fucking  _ dead _ .” In the sparse, garbage-chic block, Karkat’s dark expression fit surprisingly well with the depressing decor. It was still jarring. Suddenly, Karkat’s face was rounding the corner from frustrated to downright miserable, looking more and more distant as he spoke. 

“Oh. Shit, no, that would be super fucked up. If that were, uh. A real-life example.” Dave watched Karkat carefully. He had a lost look on his face that seemed to want to become permanent. Dave was worried for a minute that things were going to go very south, very fast, like a flock of absolutely determined aggro fucking geese. Then, Karkat’s eyes seemed to come back into focus.

  
  
  


>Karkat: Grapple with the inherently complicated nature of romance.

  
  
  


“Yeah. It fucking would be,” Karkat replied darkly. When he looked at Dave, he had a question in his eyebrows. One that Karkat was not looking forward to answering. “Fuck. Okay, it’s no secret my thing with Gamzee went completely rumblespheres-up, and maybe it kind of fucked me up, and I really,  _ really _ don’t fucking like to talk about it.” Karkat rushed the words out and paused to suck in a breath through his sniff tubes. “But you’re  _ not _ him. You have basically nothing in common, except that both of your thinkpans are riddled with fucking holes and all the good sense keeps falling the fuck out.”

Dave was cringing. “Yeah, no to comparing me to psycho clowntroll, please.”

“You’re  _ nothing _ alike,” Karkat said definitively, like he was convincing himself once and for all in that moment. He was trying to, anyway. It was basically true, no matter what nonsense his pan bombarded him with during his sleepless daytime hours. Dave was human, and he wasn’t prone to any kind of innate murderous rage. He didn’t live life in a haze of sopor and religious frenzy. His bizarre behavioral deficits didn’t come from a place of mirthful crookedness; they were simply emergent qualities of his alien culture and unwarranted self-esteem. The fact was that basically nobody could ever be like Gamzee, dangerous and fearsome and devastatingly needy. But then, nobody could ever be like Dave Strider, careless and frustrating and shockingly vulnerable behind the facade. 

In the silence, Dave found the courage to ask something. “Didn’t you say the whole palebro thing was about stopping trolls from killing each other?”

Karkat made a flippant, shrugging gesture. “Yes,  _ sometimes _ , that is the function of a moirallegiance.”

“And like… you want us to do to pale thing, so does that mean you, uh. Actually think I might kill someone?”

Karkat looked at him in surprise. Was Dave… offended? Hurt? There was something like that in his voice, partially hidden. Karkat didn’t really understand, so he just answered honestly. He’d given this one a lot of thought. “You’re not a troll. Honestly, I think you might not even be that dangerous,” Karkat found himself admitting with a bit of a grimace. “Which is why this is so fucking confusing. Humans don’t even  _ have _ killer instincts. Not that it stopped you from nearly taking out the Mayor, but dropping your sword and curling up in a sad ball aren’t exactly troll behaviors.”

“Yeah?” Dave sounded incredulous. “Does that mean you’re just a few bad days away from getting all sickle-happy on us? Is that seriously how you guys work?”

That hit Karkat in the dead center of his sternum, stirring up a whole host of hurt feelings. It was some mixture of remorse and smouldering embarrassment, smacking of wounded pride. Sure, it was how  _ some _ trolls worked. Sure,  _ some _ trolls were comfortable in their violent urges, were capable of cool and calm decisions in combat, could kill as easily as breathing. Karkat read about trolls like that, watched movies about trolls like that, even knew trolls like that. Some distant part of his brain knew that Dave had a different attitude about the whole matter of culling, even if they scarcely needed to discuss it. It was one of the many cultural differences that made Karkat like being around him. In the moment, it still stung to be reminded how different he was. 

“Are you even serious?  _ No _ ,” Karkat grumbled frustratedly. “Out of everyone on this rock, I’m probably the  _ last _ troll you have to worry about.”

One of Dave’s eyebrows went up. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

It  _ was _ a bad thing. It would’ve gotten him culled or worse on Alternia, and it nearly cost him his life so many times during the session and since. Worst of all, it had gotten his friends killed. Dave hadn’t been there, so Dave couldn’t know, but Karkat could remember vividly how it had felt to be sick with fear and unable to push himself to combat. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re not a  _ troll _ . Trolls are fucking dangerous, but I know what I’m supposed to do about that, even if I fucking dropped the ball when I had the chance.” Karkat screwed his brow up with frustration. “With you, it’s… different. It’s really fucking different, and I’m still figuring it out, okay? I didn’t even know how I was supposed to help you, when I found you in Can Town. It was actually fucking terrifying.”

“Oh, uh,” Dave said eloquently. “You did good? I think? I mean, I don’t know what the fuck  _ I _ would have done, if the tables were turned.” That was a thought. “Actually, I  _ never _ know what to do, when you hit above an eight on the Vantas rage scale.”

Karkat looked at him, considering. Was Dave actually interested in being pale with Karkat? All the questions and interest made him hopeful, but he hadn’t quite said so. If he’d been a troll, Karkat could have looked at the fact that he hadn’t been forcibly rejected and pushed away as a win. But Dave was human, all light-haired and thin-skinned and unforgettably alien in front of him. Karkat remembered what Rose had said about Dave and talking about feelings, namely that he sucked at it. “I could teach you. What you’re supposed to do for trolls. If you tell me what you’re supposed to do for humans, when you… get like that.”

“I don’t even know what you’re supposed to do for humans. But, y’know. You stuck around and maybe happened to give me a totally appropriate bro-to-bro platonic hug which maybe, kinda was a good move right then. That time. Not that I make a habit out of serving up that kind of spicy emotional flavor.”

“But if it happened again, if I knew what to  _ do _ , I could help.” Karkat hated how much it sounded like he was pleading. He swallowed, steadied himself. “If this is actually something you want, which you do have to actually tell me at some point here.”

Dave’s hand was on the back of his head, idly running through the short hairs there. He was looking anywhere but at Karkat. That wasn’t new, but it didn’t feel like a good sign. Karkat steeled himself against the inevitable rejection. 

Eventually, Dave opened his mouth.“Yeah, I mean, I might be down.”

  
  
  


>Dave: Make it happen already. 

  
  
  


The sincerity of the moment was making Dave feel like he was vibrating. Karkat was just looking at him with wide, unshielded eyes. His hands were gripping the arm rests of the chair hard enough to be digging into the synthetic upholstery. 

Dave ran his hand down over the back of his neck and found it surprisingly warm. He wondered if this was the type of thing he’d have more answers to if he knew a little more about how humans worked and about Earth and maybe even about psychology. Now all that was left of that knowledge lay with Rose, and she was not part of this conversation. But Dave  _ was _ . It was like his brain was convinced that this could go away, nothing would change, and he would end up back under the covers gritting his teeth and bearing the weight of his own feelings. But that wasn’t the reality that Karkat was trying to serve him. Karkat barely wanted to give him the option, and it was a welcome pressure.

At a certain point, all he could do was open his big mouth and let it land him in whatever trouble he was going to land himself in. After all, it wasn’t like he could fight it, and he was cool enough to handle whatever the consequences ended up being.

“Okay, look,” Dave started, “I guess it’s no big secret to anyone in this room that I might not be handling things all that hot. I mean, who is, am I right? Nobody from our team’s taking home gold at whatever mental stability gymnastics it fucking takes to watch yourself die over and over, or your friends, or to actually fucking die yourself, spring off the pommel horse and stick the landing. And like, Rose always wanted me to talk to her, but she’s been picking apart my psyche in her meticulous little hands since before all this started. Around her, I feel like a fucking Rubik’s cube. Like, she twists me all up trying to get all the different colors to line up or whatever, but I just get more and more mixed up, and eventually she gets bored and gives up. Which  _ sucks _ .”

Karkat watched him talk, face in a confused little twist, waiting to see where Dave was going with this. 

“You’re basically my best friend on this fucked up space vacation, and I know you’re trying to have your shit together for me, but like, I’m worried about you too? I know it was a while ago for you, but I basically just yesterday got my perspective shifted on where you rate on the losing-your-shit-o-meter. I was telling myself you were at like a comfy four to six, and it turned out you were spiking up to eleven on me. You’re kind of a mess, and it’s kind of scary how much you, like, actually unironically hate yourself.” Karkat cringed at that, but Dave kept going. “You got enough of your own shit, and it’s not really your job to know how to fix any of my shit. I mean, you know that, right? ”

Karkat gave a grim little nod. He looked uncomfortable. His mouth was in a firm, fixed line that said he was actively holding back some snide comment. That was fine. If Karkat interrupted him now, they’d probably have to start this whole agonizingly emotional chit-chat from the start.

Dave let himself babble his way into it. He knew where he was going, and he knew he had some serious reservations about going there. But he was one foot in the pool now, and he wasn’t about to back out. “You’re… pretty clueless about human shit. And that’s actually good, because it means you can’t ask me all the uncomfortable fucking questions Rose would try to saddle me with. About shit that actually just  _ doesn’t _ matter, you know?” Gay shit, one could say. Shit that was just  _ gay _ , in the old-fashioned, stupid-as-fuck sense of the word. “Some human stuff just doesn’t matter anymore. And some troll shit is pretty crazy, but I can kind of see myself getting a little multicultural about some stuff. Maybe. I can give it a try, I guess, is what I’m saying?”

Karkat had his elbows braced on the armrests of the chair, his eyes wide and uncertain. He looked like a kid who’d just been told he was going to DisneyLand for the third time, only the first two times had actually been trips to the junkyard, so he didn’t trust it. Which was maybe an analogy Dave could intimately relate to. After a moment, Karkat opened his mouth to prompt, less harshly than expected, “What exactly are you saying?”

Dave looked up at the pockmarked ceiling, nervous. “I guess, like. Maybe we can try it? You seem to think it’s a good idea, and like, you’re kind of the expert here. Quadrant shit I mean. Not that I have quadrants, I still think that shit’s kind of crazy, but I mean, I could dabble in diamonds. Pal around paleways or whatever. Trollbro style. I mean, if it keeps you from hate-memo-ing yourself. That shit needs to stop, and uh, if you need a monorail to, like, ride on out of self-hate city, I guess I can do that? Shit, I mean. Not like that, I just mean… yeah.” He forced himself to shut his mouth with a click. If one more stupid word fell out of his mouth, Dave wasn’t sure he’d live it down. 

“You actually want to be my moirail,” Karkat stated as a way of asking for clarity. Dave was equal parts astonished and relieved that he wasn’t giving Dave shit over his verbal vomit.

“I’m going to fuck it up,” Dave warned. It was easier than saying “yes.” Instead, he said, “I probably don’t get what I’m getting into and I’m gonna make you mad and you’re gonna blow your lid at me, but what else is new, right?”

“You… actually want to be my moirail.” Karkat’s voice was steady, like he was still processing an utterly unexpected outcome. 

“That word sounds so fucking weird when you keep saying it,” Dave said awkwardly. “But like, yeah?”

“Uh. Okay. Yeah, that’s--good. I think that’s… yeah, good.” Karkat stammered his way to the end, a smile tugging helplessly at his mouth. His hand came up to cover his face bashfully. Despite hiding behind his hand, Karkat’s feelings were clear on his face and in his body language, his relief and self-conscious joy. It made Dave’s chest pinch with secondhand embarrassment and sincere affection. And affection was allowed here, right? This was… that sort of thing? By the way Karkat snuck a shy glance at him, it seemed like Karkat thought so. Dave felt a smile tugging at his lips in response, and it sort of scared him. What had he just agreed to, actually? He supposed he’d agreed to… get closer to Karkat. If he just thought of it like that, the discomfort in his chest turned to something warmer and easier to breathe through.

They sat awkwardly, neither of them moving, sharing in the moment.

“So can you explain to me what exactly happened? With the Mayor?” Karkat finally asked cautiously.

“If I say no, are you going to make me?” Dave quipped before he could stop himself. Karkat gave him a sort of pained look. Right. This was basically exactly what Dave had just agreed to. And it was  _ okay _ , it had to be. This was normal and okay for Karkat, and for the moment, that needed to be good enough. Dave sighed through his nose and sat back, leaning his hands into the mattress. He winced when he pressed into the bruise in his hand and readjusted. “I don’t know, I’m not Rose, I don’t know shit about psychology. Sometimes shit’s just… too much? Which is crazy, because look how much we’ve all been through. I was always fine before. Now…” He shrugged again. Maybe he would have said more, if he could figure out how.

Karkat’s brow was furrowed. “You seemed like you couldn’t breathe.”

“Yeah, I dunno,” Dave breathed out quickly, looking anywhere but at Karkat. “I can breathe now, so, who fucking knows what my problem was.”

Karkat swallowed. “Are you dangerous to approach in that state?”

_ That _ was not a question Dave had expected. Maybe he should have, given what he’d learned about this quadrant that… he was in now. With a dude. Trollmance with his troll bro. What the  _ fuck _ was he doing? 

To Karkat, he just said, “Dude, what?”

“If you were a troll I’d be assuming the answer is ‘yes,’ but you’re a human, so…” Karkat trailed off, embarrassed, looking for all the world like he was asking any other awkward question about human beings.

Dave couldn’t help but feel offended, even if the cold realization was setting in that Karkat’s concerns were completely fucking justified. Just look at what he had done to the Mayor, or almost done. Still, it was jarring to be looked at like he could hurt people, it felt harsh to be asked those questions. Then, something occurred to him. “Did you think I was going to attack you when you showed up yesterday?”

“It seemed possible!” Karkat retorted. “You had already attacked the Mayor, and you weren’t yourself, and in my experience those are the ingredients to a  _ bad fucking time _ . I’m not taking anymore chances, I don’t fucking want to see  _ anyone’s _ blood outside their body until at the very  _ least _ we get to the new session.”

That was surprisingly graphic. So, what did that mean? Had Karkat thought he was putting himself in harm’s way when he showed up in Can Town? And he’d just done it  _ anyway _ ? Was that a troll thing, a diamonds thing, or a Karkat thing? Whichever one, Dave felt out of his depth.

“Bro,” Dave said, frustrated to find his voice catching a little. “I’m an asshole, not a  _ monster _ .”

For a moment, Karkat’s eyes looked distant as he grumbled some agreement. Right, because Karkat’s dated actual monsters before. Not that this was  _ dating. _ Right? Suddenly Dave felt like he should have asked more questions. He forced himself to bring his attention back to Karkat’s words. “So,  _ asshole _ , what am I actually supposed to do if… whatever that was happens again?”

Dave stiffened. He didn’t like to consider the fact that his future was one that contained the occasional panic attack. Every time it happened, he still hoped it would be the last time. But that seemed like such bullshit he couldn’t even voice it. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Sorry.” He wanted the apology to sound flippant, but of course it didn’t. It was hard to be cool about feelings, and it was hard to be cool with a headache, and he was  _ tired _ . He supposed that for once he could just cut himself some slack on maintaining the Strider brand. 

“You know what trolls do,” Karkat started saying, in much the same tone Dave expected a birds-and-the-bees conversation might start in back on Earth. Dave had gotten plenty of shit from Karkat about how he handled his feelings, but the way that trolls talked about platonic touching was just wild. Karkat pressed on haltingly, “Which is… sort of what I did. The shooshing and the, uh, physical gestures of reassurance.”

“That is a weird way to put it,” Dave observed.

“Shut up, you know what I fucking mean,” Karkat snapped. “Did I do the right things? For you? Or do your freaky human feelings work differently?” He hid his face in one hand. “I’m doing my best, Strider, can this please not be completely fucking agonizing?”

Dave looked at Karkat, sitting there and practically squirming. He  _ did _ know what Karkat meant. He’d paid more attention that he’d let on to the pale scenes in Karkat’s movies. He remembered, foggily, the petting and hugging from the other night. Aside from Mayor hugs, that had probably been the most physical contact of any kind that Dave had had in a while. Even now, he could feel the hollow ache in some fucked up part of him that craved more. If Dave were honest with himself, he’d recognize how miserable he was, and how badly he just wanted a hug. So incredibly fucked up.

Dave sat with his feelings, thinking. Karkat waited for him, mouth twisted in a grimace, his head bowed into his hand. It was a wonder he hadn’t absconded at, like, any of ten different points during their conversation. This was awkward as hell, and Karkat was just trucking on forward. Dave could respect that. He felt like he was finally beginning to put together a comprehensible picture of the elusive and powerful value that Karkat Vantas brought to the table.

“I think you did good,” Dave managed, heart pounding hard enough to be thoroughly distracting. “I, uh. Appreciated it. I mean. I don’t know how to say this.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dave saw Karkat raise his head to look at him. “Nobody ever did that kind of thing for me before? Bro wasn’t much of a hugger. Which is cool, I guess it’s kind of gay to hug your bro, but I guess it doesn’t… have to be? Or like it doesn’t matter? Like when you showed up in Can Town it was--um. It’s not like I cared how gay it was then.”

Karkat was looking at him with compassion, a far cry from the annoyance Dave expected when he started throwing around the g-word. Dave forced himself to finish his thought. “So I guess I was kind of into it. Sorry if that’s fucked up.”

“It’s not fucked up,” Karkat responded, voice gentle. “That’s, uh. What moirails are for. If you’re still okay with that,” he added on, sounding nervous.

“Sure,” Dave said, trying to sound casual, trying to keep the alarming flutter in his chest in check. “I mean, yeah. I’m--I’m down.”

“Fuck,” Karkat breathed out, falling back in the chair. “Thank  _ god _ .”

“So are we supposed to hug it out now?” Dave joked, kicking himself for how much it didn’t sound like a joke. Shit, now that he was thinking of it, Karkat actually  _ did _ look like he needed a hug. He’d basically just done the troll-bro version of asking Dave out, his nerves were probably eating him alive. 

“I mean… do you actually  _ want _ to?” Karkat asked, voice guarded and uncertain. 

The crazy thing was that Dave  _ did _ want to. He wanted to give his bro a hug, share in some of that sweet reassuring platonic affection between dudes, maybe pat his back a little. It was the first thing he’d thought of when Karkat had mentioned this whole pale-diamond-friends thing. It was what had stood out most in the movies. But something in the pit of his stomach told him Karkat would make fun of him for that, that he wouldn’t be able to look Karkat in the eye afterward. The situation being what it was, he wasn’t sure where that was coming from, but it was undeniably powerful.

In that moment, however, Karkat was looking at him with those wide, vulnerable nocturnal eyes. It put things into perspective. The instinct to deflect and deny was quashed by the knowledge that it would just  _ crush _ his best friend. Karkat was right there, needing him to be as open with him as Karkat was. 

Without thinking too much more, Dave stood up. He looked at Karkat, not sure what to do with his face. 

Karkat got up slowly, stood close enough that Dave could feel the warmth coming off of his body. It was making Dave’s heart pound, a total overreaction to a friendly hug. 

For a moment Karkat was giving Dave’s shades a determined, searching look, and Dave thought he might have to say something else or, god forbid,  _ initiate _ this awkward physical contact situation. Then, all of a sudden, Karkat’s arms were around his waist, pulling him in hard. Dave could feel Karkat’s head resting on his shoulder, turned away from him as though Dave were still about to reject him. Dave’s arms came up automatically to come to a rest around Karkat. He was  _ warm _ . He was  _ solid _ . He had a  _ smell _ , subtle and familiar like a childhood home. Dave’s breathing hitched in his throat.

Without saying a word, Karkat tensed in Dave’s arms, hugging him tighter. Dave responded by pulling him closer, tighter. He let his head come to rest in Karkat’s dense and bristly hair. Karkat was squeezing hard enough that Dave couldn’t breathe very deeply, not that Dave trusted himself to breathe too deep to begin with. Karkat’s hand gave him a comforting little pat between his shoulders, running back down to his waist over his t-shirt. Dave had actual goose bumps from the contact. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone aside from the Mayor had held him like this, and the Mayor was sort of small and rigid (no offense, buddy). Had anyone  _ ever _ just  _ hugged _ Dave like this? He couldn’t remember. 

It was so quiet, it was so  _ awkward _ , and Dave was dreading the moment that they came apart and had to make eye contact and keep talking. But for this moment, for now, he could be all-in on this. He could hold onto Karkat as long as Karkat was holding him. He could be vulnerable with Karkat, or at least he could try, as long as they were in it together. Dave supposed that was the entire point of being pale-bros. Diamond buddies. Monorails?

When they finally came apart, Karkat looked more at ease than Dave had expected. He was actually  _ smiling _ , actually had it in him to look nearly excited about this. Dave wasn’t there yet. He was about to sit down when Karkat stopped him with a hand on his wrist. He let go when Dave looked at him, but his face didn’t falter. No, Karkat looked downright determined.

“Oh no you fucking don’t. Now that we’ve hashed that out, we can clean up this fucking sty you’ve been living in.  _ Then _ we can go look for something to eat that isn’t grub snacks. You dragged that the  _ fuck _ out and I’m not missing a meal over your crap.”

Dave forced a little smirk, finding it easier than he expected. Even his breath was coming easier, now. Some of that knot in his chest had unwound. Was that because of the hug, or was it Karkat? A little giddy, Dave sniped back, “Oh shit, Karkat Vantas is a bossy girlfriend. Is it too late to take it all back?” 

Dave cringed inside at every part of that, but to his relief, Karkat just rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up and be grateful I’m helping you.”

They sniped at each other toothlessly as they uncovered the floor of Dave’s block. It should have been strange having Karkat there, in his fortress of solitude, holding Dave’s trash in his weird grey spaceman fingers. But no, it felt normal, it felt natural, just like tidying up after routine demolition at Can Town. Karkat had gotten some exposure to his fucked up headspace and he was still  _ Karkat _ . Dave had taken down a wall or two, but nothing felt lost. Dave watched for a moment as Karkat cursed and dug an old bag of chips out from behind the laundry pile. Maybe it was fucked up, but he couldn’t even feel that bad that Karkat was cleaning up his mess. He couldn’t feel bad about the hug, or how long Karkat had spent pulling feelings out of Dave’s mouth like an amateur dentist armed with nothing but pliers. He just physically couldn’t. 

Maybe it was fucked up, but it just felt so nice, so  _ good _ , to be taken care of a little for a change.

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 17.2%

  
  
  


>==>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! Huzzah!
> 
> Next chapter soon, but maybe not till 2021 depending. We'll see. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented, kudos'd, bookmarked, or otherwise enjoyed this fic so far!
> 
> Happy holidays, friends.


	9. >Karkat: Endure small talk.

<==<

  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 2.9%

  
  
  


>Karkat: Endure small talk.

  
  
  


Early on, one of the most awkward places to bump into other people was the alchemy lab. For most of them, the novelty of alchemizing useless crap had long since worn off. The various useful rooms and chambers of the meteor were more-or-less furnished. The only reason to make the trip was to alchemize something useful or practical, like a toiletry that had run out or a vain attempt at a new food item. At the time, Karkat only emerged from the dark, horn-cluttered cavern of his block to use the load gaper or to alchemize some necessary thing. The entire journey to the alchemy lab, in those days, was spent in a scowling silence as Karkat hoped bitterly that nobody would intercept him. Sometimes he got lucky. Other times, he happened upon Dave Strider, knee-deep in some kind of low-quality art supplies.

So as Karkat stood in silence at the alchemiter furthest from Dave’s, punching in the codes for toothpaste and troll shampoo (human shampoo left his hair feeling greasy), he was cursing the universe every way he knew how in his head. He could feel Dave looking at him. Hopefully, the miasma of misery Karkat was giving off would signal that he wasn’t in the mood to be bothered.

“...huh,” Dave said all of a sudden. So much for hope. Why did Karkat even bother?

“What?”

“I was just thinking about small talk, right? So I was almost gonna ask--this is stupid--if you had any brothers or sisters. But that’s dumb, because obviously you don’t.” He was speaking in that intentionally-casual type of way that Karkat was starting to recognize. As best as Karkat could figure, it was how he talked when he was just talking to hear the sound of his own voice.

“What are you talking about?”

Dave wasn’t looking at him, just casually loading up his sylladex with enough paper, chalk, and markers to teach a class on creating frivolous, wasteful garbage in the least efficient way possible. “You guys are basically raised by wolves, right? Or is that, like, offensive?”

“I don’t know what the fuck a wolf is,” Karkat grumbled, not entirely honestly. Some sort of barkfiend, right? “My lusus was a hulking, hard-shell clawbeast.”

It seemed to take Dave a moment to decipher that. “So you were raised by a lobster, cool. That tracks, I guess?”

“Why exactly are you fucking talking to me, Strider?”

“I’m just making small talk, dude. Do lobsters ever raise, like, more than one troll? At a time?”

“Just fucking kill me,” Karkat groaned. He took a quick account of whether he’d gotten everything he needed, and he had. Good. He could get back to his block now.

“‘Cause if they did, those trolls’d be siblings,” Dave was explaining, “That’s brothers and sisters. Bam, you just got schooled on human family junk.”

“Thank god I didn’t miss out on such a vital fucking educational opportunity. I’m leaving now.”

“Yeah, hold up, I’m done too.”

To his horror, Karkat saw that Dave had captchalogued everything in the piles around him and was following Karkat to the door. Karkat felt a headache forming between his horns. “Fucking perfect.”

“Yeah, so,” Dave continued as they started to walk. More accurately, as Karkat started to walk. Stupid fucking god tier asshole and his thoughtless, inconsiderate flying bullshit. “I guess I was just thinking about it, you know? Like, I thought I had a bro, but it turned out he was more like my dad, even if he was still my Bro. But that’s fine, right? Confusing as fuck, but no harm no foul. Basically par for the course as far as the whole ectobiology thing is concerned. Except now I guess I have a sister too? Like a sister who used to flirt with me like  _ damn _ , girl. Like I get it, who wouldn’t want a piece of this, but have some self-respect. At least, that was before it turned out we were related. Family is crazy.”

“I still have literally no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s cool, though. I was basically just gonna say all that to the hallway if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Glad I could be of fucking service,” Karkat shot back. “If you’re going to talk my ear off about the bundle of inadequacies you call a culture, you can at least have the decency to put your strut pods where they belong and  _ actually fucking walk _ .”

“Is that seriously what you guys call feet?” Dave replied with a smirk. He was so sincerely aggravating. But in all fairness, there was a chance some of it was just culture shock.

And in all fairness, he did lower himself to the floor, settling into step beside Karkat. 

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 17.4%

  
  


>Dave: Withdraw?

  
  


Sometimes it was obvious from the start what kind of day it was going to be.

It wasn’t that Dave was freaking out about the pale thing. Trolls had a weird way of thinking of their best bros, and there wasn’t anything wrong with that. Dave was no xenophobe, and he was down to be open to his alien bro’s culture. It wasn’t that Dave was freaking out about the hugging, which definitely shouldn’t have been nearly as appealing as it was. What kind of normal dude was into hugs? That’s just fucked up. But it’s not like it was worth freaking out about. Nothing that was happening was really worth freaking out about. 

And if it was, it definitely, absolutely, one-hundred-percent was not the kind of thing a Strider bothers another person with. 

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 03:25--

CG: HEY.

  1. I’M AT CAN TOWN.



CG: ARE YOU COMING TODAY?

CG: THE MAYOR ASKED ABOUT YOU AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO TELL HIM.

CG: I KNOW YOU SAID SOMETHING ABOUT GIVING HIM SPACE BUT TO BE HONEST HE LOOKED DISAPPOINTED.

CG: DAVE?

CG: ARE YOU NOT AWAKE YET?

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 03:28--

It was nice that Karkat was reaching out. It was always nice. Dave wondered if it had always been a palebro thing for him, or if trolls were capable of just being nice to each other as friends. He couldn’t exactly articulate the difference to himself when he tried, anyway. That meant this whole pale thing was probably well within bounds, if it still pretty much looked like friendship.

Dave curled up in his blankets, facade gone in the dark of the room but defenses still high. The cold silence served as the backdrop for all the scraps of memory that his mind was throwing at him, the sounds of taunting and the sounds of steel. Part of him was on high alert, listening to the subtle sounds of the vents, listening for footsteps outside. He could feel himself focusing as if to project his awareness out, further and further, until he could be sure that nothing around him meant him harm. The more he focused, the more his mind betrayed him, conjuring empty shadows of metal on metal,  _ clang, slice, shunk.  _ He lay there, still, for longer than he cared to keep track of. If he could only just perfectly anticipate the terror, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much this time.

His eyes were shut tight, so tight they were starting to hurt. Some irrational part of him was sure that if they came open, he’d find himself on the roof again. He’d find himself hurting, temporarily forced down by the weight of a hefty puppet. He’d see them again--Lil Cal’s eyes glinting as ominously as Bro’s sweet shades--and every part of his mind was sure that that imaginary face-off wouldn’t even have the silver lining of being the last. He knew, on some level, that imagining this scenario so intensely was only going to bring it to life in a dream bubble somewhere. Some of his more vivid nightmares had left Dave wondering if that had already happened. But there was nothing he could do. His mind was going to do what it was going to do.

Then his notification sound rang, and for a moment Dave was somewhere else. For a moment, the block around him wasn’t real, and neither was the roof. For a moment, he was under the covers in his old room, all the lights off. He was hiding from Bro again, vain gesture though it was. Bro always found him when he needed him. Then, the notification sound. In the dark, Dave instantly knew who he hoped it would be. 

_ John? _

Before the game, before all this had happened, John was the one Dave had talked to on days like this. Sometimes he let on how he was doing, sometimes he didn’t, but John was always the same. He was always funny and dorky and talking to him never had to be a big deal. It stung that he couldn’t just pester John for a little while and feel better. 

When Dave’s eyes came open, the illusion came undone. He was in his block. He was avoiding Can Town. He hadn’t spoken to John in six long months. Someone else was all up in his business these days.

Dave exhaled shakily, more than a little relieved to see the familiar grey text.

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 06:13--

CG: OKAY YOU OFFICIALLY SHOULD BE AWAKE RIGHT NOW.

CG: IT’S COOL IF YOU’RE NOT FEELING CAN TOWN

CG: BUT YOU SHOULD GET BACK TO ME.

CG: LIKE I KNOW YOU’RE PROBABLY JUST SITTING IN YOUR BLOCK TAKING SHITTY SELFIES OR WHATEVER BUT IF YOU COULD USE YOUR COMMUNICATION DEVICE AS INTENDED FOR A MOMENT

CG: THAT WOULD BE GREAT.

TG: hey

CG: THERE YOU FUCKING ARE.

TG: here i fucking am

TG: communication device being used all as intended and junk

TG: ask and you shall receive.

CG: IS EVERYTHING OKAY?

TG: yeah

TG: like im fine

TG: just not really feeling can town i guess

CG: OH

CG: YOU KNOW THE MAYOR WANTS TO SEE YOU, RIGHT?

TG: yeah i guess

TG: look im just

TG: not doing that today

CG: OKAY.

CG: ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE OKAY?

TG: dude no offense

TG: not really in the mood to rap about my innermost feelings

TG: ok

CG: OH

CG: OKAY

CG: YEAH THAT’S FINE

CG: MAYBE LATER

CG: YOU WANT TO DO SOMETHING ELSE?

TG: doesnt the mayor need you

CG: HE’S THE MAYOR.

CG: HE’S PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF MANAGING WITHOUT ME.

CG: DO YOU WANT TO WATCH A MOVIE?

TG: maybe

TG: i mean

TG: yeah that could be a thing

TG: only

TG: you wanna come over here

CG: YEAH SURE.

TG: maybe bring snacks

CG: SO FUCKING DEMANDING.

CG: I’LL BE RIGHT THERE.

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 06:29--

  
  


Dave stared at his phone screen for another moment or two, enjoying the warm relief growing in his chest. He knew he was probably going to end up watching another shitty Troll Dane Cook movie, since Karkat was on a bit of a kick lately, but that was more than fine. It was something other than staring at the oppressive ceiling alone on his back. It meant he didn’t have to face the dusty silence of the hall quite yet. He could avoid the spectres his anxieties conjured up around him to keep him on his toes. He could just let his fraying nerves rest for a moment, and he wouldn’t have to be alone.

It was a quiet, low-key movie night as far as movie nights went. Dave wasn’t kidding about not wanting to talk, and it seemed like Karkat had picked up on that just fine. If Karkat noticed anything in how quiet he was, in how tired he looked for having spent so much time sleeping, he didn’t say anything. Dave tried not to look at him, for fear that the eye contact would be enough to start an unwanted conversation. It was weird just to have someone there, when he felt like this, when his mind was replaying all the worst, most familiar feelings at him. It was disorienting. Like a piece of the real world was lodged hard in the throat of whatever shadow was looming over him. It made the twitchy, hypervigilant instinct in Dave’s head feel incongruous with the dim room, the warmth of his cape, the warmth of Karkat’s shoulder just next to his. 

Dave didn’t want to focus on it. Instead, they focused on some shitty Troll Dane Cook movie, sitting back against the wall on Dave’s bed, until eventually Dave closed his eyes and nodded off.

  
  


>Karkat: Reunite the Knight of Time with the Mayor of Can Town.

  
  
  


Karkat was pleasantly surprised when, a couple of days later, Dave agreed to come back to Can Town. After Dave had invited him over, he never had brought up what it was that had been bothering him. It didn’t take a genius to see that his avoidance of Can Town must have been related. Karkat resolved that even if he was respecting Dave’s reticence on the subject of his feelings, he didn’t have to sit idly by while his moirail isolated himself from his friends. He’d been planning to push the issue if Dave had been particularly stubborn, but Dave had let himself be talked into it quickly enough that it felt to Karkat like he’d just been waiting for an invitation. Karkat had been entirely happy to give him one. After all, everything was going great.

Karkat had filled a quadrant, and nothing absolutely fucking awful had happened yet. He was getting up in Dave’s business, and Dave didn’t  _ mind _ . The relief was exhilarating and powerful, drowning out the fearful thoughts that normally hovered in droves over his thinkpan. 

“...and if the dog has a sick enough haircut and all the right papers and stuff, it can win a blue ribbon. At least I think dog shows do ribbons? I guess maybe it could be a trophy. Full disclosure, I’ve never watched a dog show, this is all just from, whatcha call it, osmosis through the Internet.”

Dave was rambling about something truly irrelevant as he punched in the code for a multicolor box of chalk. They were in the alchemy lab, at Karkat’s suggestion, stocking up for Can Town before heading over and seeing the Mayor. Dave had stayed away for long enough by far, and Karkat couldn’t stand to watch him sulk in his block any longer. 

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Karkat asked.

A shrug. “You wanted to know about dogs, dude.”

“I asked why your barkbeasts have so many different deformed varieties, not what carnival of humiliation to attend to see them all paraded around. Are the genetic modifications for some sort of purpose, or it is honestly all in pursuit of the ‘sickest haircut?’”

Dave seemed to consider that for a moment. The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Y’know, I’m gonna go with yes. Yes, humans bred dogs for thousands of years to get the sickest doggo haircut. Tragically, all the dogs got wiped out before the one true groomer could be born and, like, trim the fuck out of the shaggiest poodles or whatever, do the corgi perm to end all corgi perms. Pomeranians. Dalmatians? I don’t think I even remember that many types of dogs.”

Karkat tuned out as Dave went on about “types of dogs,” which seemed to be the category du jour. Even on a cloud of soft pale feelings, Dave’s rambling was still something of a nuisance. It was both unexpected and comforting that moirallegiance hadn’t seemed to change much between them. There was something like an unspoken agreement between them that bringing up their long, awkward, heartfelt conversation or the corresponding moirail hug would be too embarrassing for either of them. The quiet movie night in Dave’s block was apparently too embarrassing, too. 

Karkat was surprised by how insecure he wasn’t feeling about it. After all, Dave was still around, and safe, and not avoiding Karkat from his block for days on end. And he had invited Karkat to see him on what had obviously been one of his bad days--a fact that had Karkat coasting on a shameful soft wave of elation. Dave had  _ trusted _ him. So apparently talking wasn’t Dave’s way of sorting out his problems, which Karkat could accept for the time being. Surprise surprise, Dave’s words were only good for bullshit, who’d have expected. 

“You’re not making any sense, but I just realized I don’t actually care.” Karkat interjected eventually, tucking a stack of four hefty boxes of multicolor chalk into his sylladex. They were really stocking up. “I think that’s everything we need.”

“You sure? Maybe we should bring him a new blanket or something.” Dave had his hand poised over the keypad of the alchemizer, tilting his head to look at Karkat. Stalling, obviously.

“Only if you’re carrying it. I don’t have any more space in my sylladex.”

“That’s just because you’re always carrying so much crap around.”

Karkat huffed. “Hey, there is nothing fucking wrong with being prepared.”

“I know for a fact that you are always carrying around at least five different shitty paperbacks.”

“Excuse me, motherfucker? They are  _ not _ shitty, and I do not carry five of them. Two, maybe.”

Dave tilted his head in that way that Karkat was pretty sure meant he was rolling his eyes under those fucking impenetrable vision shields. “Yeah, I can totally see those coming in handy in an emergency.”

“Eat my nook, Strider,” Karkat shot back maturely. “Are we done here?”

“I mean, I just want to be sure we don’t overlook anything. That we should get alchemized. Or else we’re just going to have to come back here, and I know how much you fucking hate that. Not like the Mayor minds some alone time before we go barging in on him. I mean, if you think about it, he’s like the friend whose house we’re always hanging out at. He’s bound to get sick of us, right?”

Karkat looked at him, then sighed. Between the opaque shades and the steadiness of his voice, Dave should have been hard to read. Too bad he gave himself away whenever it really counted “If the Mayor didn’t want to see you, he wouldn’t keep asking me about you.”

“Dobermans.”

“What?”

“Terriers.”

Karkat just looked at Dave. Was he seriously just chanting random Earth words at him? “Did your cracked pan finally snap for good?”

“Just trying to remember different types of dogs, dude. That’s the kind of culture we need to keep alive.” Dave paused for a moment. “Shit, were there different types of cats? There’s calico… well, fuck cats, I guess.”

“As much as I enjoy watching you carry out conversations in Earth slang with yourself, the Mayor is waiting for us. Aren’t you a time player? Don’t you have even the smallest amount of shame at being late all the fucking time?”

Dave turned his head at the mention of the Mayor, breaking eye contact to look at one of the hulking alchemiters. His hands were shoved casually in his pockets. When he opened his mouth, there was a pause before the words came out. “Yeah, alright. Hate to leave the Mayor waiting. Dude’s a busy guy.” His attempts to hide his nerves pinched something in Karkat’s thorax.

“Dave.” Karkat walked over to Dave and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He felt Dave jerk a little, but then he recovered and he was just looking at Karkat. “It’s the Mayor. He fucking adores you. He wants you there. This doesn’t have to be a big deal.” Karkat emphasized his words with an empathetic squeeze. 

Dave looked away, acting like there was something interesting to look at on the dark far wall of the room. “If it’s not a big deal, why do I have to go to Can Town today?”

Karkat just stared at him for a moment, trying to decide how to respond. Dave was dense, but it’s not like he didn’t realize that he couldn’t avoid the Mayor forever. It’s not like he hadn’t come out to the alchemy lab on his own. It’s not like he was shoving Karkat away and telling him to fuck off and go to Can Town on his own. He was just… like this. 

“Obviously,” Karkat said after a moment, “because the Mayor needs your help carrying out his vision. Did you expect me to keep picking up your slack? It’s been days, Strider. Get a grip.”

That seemed to work, because Dave exhaled a dry little laugh. “I guess I should have expected that you two wouldn’t get anywhere without my artistic vision.”

Karkat pulled his hand away and gave Dave’s arm a playful open-handed thwack that was maybe a little too firm to be conciliatory. “Ugh, nope. You can leave your gimmicky, intentionally-nauseating ‘vision’ out of it.”

“You fucking love it.” Dave followed Karkat out of the lab.

“You fucking wish.”

Despite Karkat’s efforts, the conversation inevitably died down over the course of a long walk down cool hallways. The sound of two pairs of footsteps echoed around them up stairs and through atria. Any long, quiet walk on the meteor carried its own tension and weight, but Karkat had largely gotten used to it. Or at least, this was one of the days when it wasn’t getting to him. Dave’s general vibe at his side seemed to say that that wasn’t the case for him. 

Some dark and clammy pocket in the back of Karkat’s thinkpan wondered if Dave was just waiting for a good moment to break it to him that agreeing to their moirallegiance had been a mistake. That Karkat had practically forced him into it with actually-quite-unwanted meddling, that Karkat was still just forcing him into things. What does an alien get out of being in a quadrant, anyway? What if Karkat had misunderstood and the Mayor really didn’t want Dave around yet? The more Karkat thought about it, the more tenuous and uncomfortable the whole situation became. 

Then, inevitably, they reached Can Town. Dave set his jaw and his steps sped up just a little as he crossed the threshold. Karkat scanned the room and saw the Mayor in the middle of some routine can-militia training exercises. 

“Hey Mayor, sorry we’re late,” Karkat called over. 

The Mayor locked eyes with Karkat, waved delightedly, and kept on waving as he looked at Dave. He put down his can-nudging stick and stepped carefully around the citizens and buildings to greet them. Everything would have felt normal, except for how Dave stopped dead in his tracks when the Mayor made eye contact with him. Karkat stood a couple of steps nearby, watching with interest. Dave’s face was pinched, and even with the shades, Karkat could see plainly the guilt that Dave was feeling. It was incredible how layers of Dave’s facade just dropped for the Mayor like that. Karkat might have been jealous, if he thought about it.

“Hey Mayor,” Dave finally said, as the Mayor made his way the rest of the way over to him. The carapacian stopped a couple of feet away, looking at Dave uncertainly. Normally, Dave would have gone right in for the hug without a second thought, but he was just standing there. “How are… you doing?”

The Mayor tilted his head. His eyes crinkled with compassion and good humor. He nodded a little,  _ Good. _ He stepped forward, and Karkat saw Dave stiffen. The Mayor put a hand on the side of Dave’s shoulder and squeezed it fondly.  _ It’s okay.  _ Dave’s shoulders twitched. Karkat saw his bottom lip tremble in a way that he was sure Dave wouldn’t have wanted him to see. The Mayor reached a thin, shiny hand over to Dave’s wrist, holding it firm. He gave Dave a meaningful look.  _ No more swords. _

“Sorry, buddy.” Dave’s voice was actually breaking with remorse, oh wow. Karkat could practically hear the romantic crescendo of music that should have accompanied the scene. It was incredible how much humans could feel about something as trivial as a close call. “I’m really sorry.”

Karkat finally looked away, excusing himself to go unload the supplies they’d alchemized, admittedly feeling a little weird about it. Watching and rewatching his favorite movies had left him intimately familiar with all the classic pale tropes, and Dave’s whole reconciliation with the Mayor ticked a lot of those boxes. From a troll’s perspective, it was definitely inappropriate. But Karkat tried to know better. Dave’s friendship with the Mayor was old news, and Karkat was basically used to it. Besides, moirallegiance was about more than just some  _ admittedly quite emotional _ touching. Friendship with the Mayor, Karkat had learned, definitely involved more sentimental touching on average than friendship with trolls or humans. It didn’t have anything to do with quadrants. 

By the time Karkat could bring himself to look over again, they had their hands to themselves. Dave looked more at ease, but there was more distance between him and the Mayor than Karkat was used to seeing when they talked. The Mayor was saying something obviously sentimental, and then Dave was talking, but quietly, and Karkat tried not to be too curious. After all, he’d done his part. Things were going back to normal. Dave wouldn’t be avoiding Can Town on his watch. Pieces were fitting together in Karkat’s thorax, resolving into a smooth, pale satisfaction.

It was nice to get something right for once. 

  
  
  


>Karkat: Try to empathize with your alien moirail.

  
  
  


“You know, I think I’ve done more arts and crafts on this meteor than in my entire life up till then. I’m getting fucking good with a gluestick. Did you even know gluestick was a thing you could be bad at? If it wouldn’t fucking kill us all I’d go back in time just to laugh in tiny five-year-old Dave’s face about his inferior gluing skills.”

“Why would you ever have done this before? This is fucking stupid.”

“Don’t be like that, dude. The Strider-Vantas-Obama Banking Conglomerate Tower is the sickest architectural venture Can Town’s ever seen.” It was certainly sick, in the sense that it was ill, in the sense that it was in immediate need of culling before the rest of the city became infected. It was a looming wreckage of paper tubes, sloping landings, and misguided ambition.

“Don’t put my fucking name on that thing. It shows that you’ve never actually had to build anything, shit-for-sponge. Your monstrosity would be rejected by the oversight drones immediately. Nobody could justify wasting the materials!”

“Oh shit, who died and made you captain of the Can Town architectural committee?”

“At least I have actual fucking experience!”

“Oh right, you guys all had to build your own houses. Fuck. Now I really want to yell at younger Dave for all the half-assed macaroni art.”

“It’s nice to hear you admit to the inherent superiority of the troll way of life,” Karkat returned smugly. “What deranged species prioritizes wiggler art over useful fucking life skills? Wiggler art is terrible!”

“Hey, macaroni art is an important cultural staple for my people. I think. Honestly, I think I did it once.”

“What the fuck is a macaroni?”

“Like a hard tube that turns into food when you cook it.”

Karkat thought about that for a moment. “Grubghetti?”

Dave shrugged in that way that Karkat had learned meant that was at most seventy-five percent correct. “Yeah, close enough.”

For a moment, Dave was caught up in his task of trying to get two errant ends of paper to stick together. It looked like they were just sticking to Dave’s fingers instead, a quirk of human skin composition that made it particularly susceptible to such adhesives. Usually he had the Mayor help him with these types of projects, since his hands were smaller and a little more dextrous. For the moment, though, the Mayor was on one of his walks. 

Since there seemed to be no helping it, Karkat abandoned his own forgotten structure--which he had been meticulous in planning and had only just begun assembly on--and knelt down near Dave’s paper behemoth. He squeezed the sticky pieces of paper together, brushing against Dave’s fingers in the process. Dave retracted his hand, almost tearing down a wall in the process.

“‘Gluestick skills’ my chapped bulge,” Karkat grumbled. 

“Nobody’s making you help. Hold still, though,” Dave said lightly, getting to work rolling more tubes for the outside. 

“How are  _ you _ the fucking architect and I’m your fucking builder drone? This is entirely fucking backwards.”

“You want to help or not?”

Karkat rolled his eyes dramatically, but Dave wasn’t looking. “Where’s the Mayor, anyway? This should be his job.”

“Dunno. He has a life, dude.” After a moment of quiet, however, Dave asked, “Where do you think he goes every day?”

“Who knows? He doesn’t have to tell us everything.”

“You know, I saw him bring some chalk with him. I bet he’s doing some bitchin’ wall art somewhere.”

The glue between Karkat’s fingers was feeling dry, if still a little tacky. He opened them experimentally, paper sticking to him just a little before peeling away, still stuck to itself as intended. Karkat retrieved his hand and got to work rolling tight, short tubes for his own structure. “I’ve never seen any wall drawings besides ours anywhere.”

“Maybe he hides it. So if you wanna see a Mayor original, you gotta know it’s there and make the trip out to see it. You gotta prove your dedication.” Dave was smirking a little. “Dude, the Mayor would have such a dedicated fanbase. Would’ve been a straight-up celebrity with a cute little face like that.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“I’m talking about the Mayor, leaving his mark on the world like a bona fide Earth street artist, tagging walls and dumpsters in the night, keepin’ a lookout for the cops, putting boobs on the Statue of Liberty and ending up on the run, living a double life to protect his wife and kids.”

“Would that be us, in this scenario?” Karkat asked dryly. He’d brushed up on more than just troll tropes over the past few months.

Dave snickered. “You know it, bro. Stick a pearl necklace on me and call me a housewife.”

Karkat’s palmhusk made a high-pitched notification sound. He pulled it out of his pocket as he responded distractedly, “I resent being the wiggler in this scenario.”

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 02:32--

TT: Hello Karkat.

TT: I was wondering if you could tell me how Dave is doing?

CG: HE’S FINE. WHY DON’T YOU TALK TO HIM YOURSELF?

TT: I see.

TT: I did reach out to him first, but I have yet to hear back.

TT: I heard something from Terezi that had me somewhat concerned.

CG: TEREZI?

CG: WHAT DID SHE TELL YOU?

TT: Just that the Mayor came to the common room in some distress asking for you the other day.

TT: Seeing as the three of you spend most of your time together, I thought it may have something to do with Dave.

  
  


Karkat looked at the screen, thinking about what to say next. Rose was clearly concerned, but it seemed like Dave wasn’t speaking to her for some reason? How long had that been the case? Beside him, Dave was hard at work on his paper-tube-and-box monstrosity. He claimed it was going to be a bank building, but it was easily the size of the entire downtown district, which raised some questions about the economy of Can Town. Dave seemed at ease, just as relaxed as he had been since he hashed things out with the Mayor. Karkat supposed it made sense that Dave wouldn’t have wanted to talk to Rose about it quite yet. 

  
  


CG: HONESTLY IF DAVE DOESN’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT YET, I’M NOT GOING TO GOSSIP BEHIND HIS BACK.

TT: I suppose that is fair.

TT: If you could pass on my concern, I would appreciate it.

TT: I would tell him myself, but I’m not entirely certain he reads my messages.

CG: JESUS. I THOUGHT YOU TWO WERE FRIENDS?

TT: Yes, me too.

TT: Or rather

TT: I still think we are.

TT: I am trying to be understanding of whatever it is he is going through.

  
  
  


Karkat looked up from his screen again and caught Dave just in time to see him look back down at his work. 

“Who’re you texting?” Dave asked a little too casually, not looking up from the art project. 

“Rose,” Karkat said pointedly, with a raised eyebrow. “Is there a reason you’re avoiding her?” 

Dave stopped what he was doing and looked at him. Karkat maintained eye contact. After a moment, Dave looked back down. “I didn’t know you and Rose talked.”

Karkat crossed his arms. “Don’t change the subject. She’s worried about you and coming to  _ me _ for answers. I refuse to play auspistice for two cagey humans, so either get back to her or tell me what heinous crime she did so I can justifiably tell her to fuck off.”

Dave shook his head. “She didn’t  _ do _ anything, calm down. Just… tell her I’m fine. Maybe just don’t tell her, like, anything about this week.”

With a sigh, Karkat put his palmhusk away and returned to his own addition to Can Town’s skyline. “Tell her yourself, Strider, I’m not a fucking messenger service.”

It was quiet for a couple of minutes, aside from the sound of paper scraping against itself. Then Dave asked, “Has she done this before? Asked you about me?”

A pang of shame hit Karkat’s digestion bladder, the familiar feeling of remembering his own past social interactions. “It’s usually the other way around, actually.”

The sounds of Dave working stopped. “What are you talking about?”

Well, there was no reason to be cagey about it at this point. After all, they were moirails now, right? Not that they were really talking about it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t talk about it, right? Karkat tugged idly at the warm collar of his sweater. “Ugh, this is embarrassing. She’s the only other human on the meteor, so I may have asked her for some advice.”

“Advice about what?”

Why did humans have to be so fucking dense? Karkat rolled his eyes. “Hmm, I fucking wonder. What could I possibly have needed some alien insight into that I could not have comfortably asked you about at the time? What could it fucking be? Nope, not a fucking clue. No idea.”

“...Wait, stop, are you serious?” Dave was asking, voice incredulous. “You asked  _ Rose _ for advice on how to--uh.”

It didn’t look like Dave was going to be able to bring himself to say it. What a fucking wiggler. Karkat let the pause go on for a few seconds and then helped him out.“On how to get you in my pale quadrant, yes. She seemed to think you’d struggle with the concept, or that your bizarre human gender quadrants might be a factor, and she--”

“ _ Shit _ ,” Dave let out. “You told  _ Rose _ ?” 

Karkat looked at him. He didn’t think it was possible for Dave’s face to look paler, but there it was, all the color draining out. He had a hand over his mouth in mild horror, sitting back against the wall. Karkat was bewildered. Had he done something wrong? Asking a mutual acquaintance for romantic advice was pretty commonplace on Alternia, and according to human movies, it was common enough on Earth, too. And yet, it was obvious that there was a problem here. 

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No.” Dave still looked stunned. “Nothing wrong with telling Rose stuff. I mean, it’s cool. Who cares what Rose knows, right? She has a problem, that just makes her, like, kind of a xenophobe in my book. Which I bet she’s not. She’s practically joined at the hip with Kanaya. Like, that’s still a thing, right? I bet it’s still a thing. They always come to movie night together and fuckin’ make eyes at each other the whole goddamn time. It’s  _ gotta _ be a thing. My money’s on that ship. Shit, is anyone taking action on meteor ships? Maybe we oughta ante up for like a trollmance bracket.”

“Hey, meteor to rambling idiot,” Karkat cut in. “Stop being a rambling idiot, because I’m not fucking lowering myself to whatever negative tier on whatever nookchafing escheladder it takes to understand what just came out of your mouth. Just tell me what I fucking did wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, bro. Thanks for letting me know Rose was trying to get in touch, I’ll sort it out when I get the chance.”

“Dave,” Karkat said again, more firmly. “I’m not buying any of this hoofbeast shit you’re shoving in my face, so can you just fucking spit it out already?”

In the ensuing silence, Dave’s monstrous paper high-rise slumped over, lacking the support it needed to stand on its own. Dave’s shades blocked out half of his expression, but to Karkat it looked like he was debating something with himself. It stopped Karkat from speaking up for moments longer than he might have otherwise gone, until finally Dave said, “You told  _ Rose Lalonde _ you were trying to bro-quadrant me. This is the chick who’s been trying to convince me I was gay ever since she learned what gay meant from--shot in the dark, nsfw tumblr wizard roleplays? Do you have any idea how much shit she’s going to give me for being in some, like, alien bro-ship? No way she doesn’t put this under her fucking therapy microscope and use it as some kind of conclusive proof of my throbbing boner for alien dick.”

Karkat squinted warily. Dave was using all the same types of words that usually signalled a barrage of human in-jokes, but he sounded incredibly serious. His bloodpusher was picking up the pace, painfully aware that, alien bullshit or no, this was one of those pale relationship moments that Karkat could either get right or totally fuck up. As he thought about it, he was realizing he’d sort of already fucked up. Moirallegiance was generally a rather private matter. Karkat hadn’t particularly planned on being so open about his pale feelings, but Dave had been confusing and his past self had been sleep-deprived, and now he was dealing with the consequences. Goddamn him. “Okay, I get I was a piece of shit for talking about our private, personal shit to other people. You have every right to be mad, but… why is it so bad that I talked to  _ Rose? _ ”

“What?” Dave looked almost startled. “I mean… I don’t know. Fuck, honestly? I don’t even know how  _ I _ feel about the whole thing, so like, I don’t want to know how Rose feels about it? I mean, shit’s just been kind of… normal. It’s not like anything’s even changed, so it’s like, I don’t want to get the third degree from anyone over nothing.”

That was fair. The past couple of days had been incredibly normal. Nothing had really changed about their friendship, which was good. It was right. If things had changed, had gotten awkward or overly sentimental, that might’ve bordered on the unhealthy. At the same time, for Karkat, everything  _ had _ changed. Just the fact that they could have this conversation, that Karkat could get involved in Dave’s life like this, already felt different from before. Just the energy that Karkat felt, filling and lifting him, from the knowledge that he had someone he was allowed to care for--that felt different. 

He was trying not to expect Dave to be there yet. He was too busy riding the high of getting Dave in his quadrant at all. Once again, his past self was back in time somewhere, fucking the whole situation up for him. 

“It’s not like it’s anyone’s business,” Karkat was saying, which was true. “I don’t usually make a habit of advertising my relationship status to people. I don’t know if you noticed, but the last handful of perigees haven’t exactly been the most secure and relaxing fucking time of my life, and maybe I wasn’t exactly making good use of my fucking think pan. And it’s not like I actually  _ told _ Rose anything. I fucking  _ asked _ her, about human stuff, and yeah, about you. Which I’m honestly pretty fucking mortified about in hindsight. So I guess, I don’t know, pretend I never said anything and we’re just human friends? Problem fucking solved.”

Dave grimaced. “Nah, it’s  _ Rose _ . Next movie night she’ll take one look at me and Sherlock it out.”

Karkat frowned. At least Dave didn’t seem particularly angry, just sort of viscerally inconvenienced. “Just tell her it’s none of her fucking business. It’s none of anybody’s business, actually.”

“You don’t get it. Like, of course you don’t get it, this is shit that you, specifically, do not get.” Dave sighed, looked away from Karkat, looked back at him. Karkat could feel his patience slipping through his grasp. This was so hard. Dave had so many bizarre cultural hangups, such strange psychological handicaps. Karkat wanted to be a better moirail this time around, but here he was fucking it up again. All this alien shit definitely wasn’t helping. When Dave spoke again, he sounded like he was explaining something incredibly delicate. “She’s going to think I’m fucking  _ gay _ .”

Karkat’s brain worked to process that. He didn’t fully grasp it, but Dave was making the effort to explain something personal, so Karkat could make the effort to be tolerant. His brow furrowed and he thought. “That’s a… gender quadrant thing?”

Dave looked uneasy. “Yeah, if you want.”

“The one where you only like males?”

“It’s the one where you like the same gender as you. So when guys are gay, they like guys. When girls are gay, they like girls.”

_ That’s stupid and needlessly complicated _ , Karkat stopped himself from saying. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that that can’t possibly be all there is to it. Why would you care who knows you like guys?”

“ _ Hey whoa _ , I do not like guys.”

Karkat counted to ten and tried to remind himself to be open-minded. “You’re literally in a quadrant with me, dipshit.”

“Okay, wait. It’s not like it’s  _ like  _ that! Right? ” Dave protested, hands up in front of him, and Karkat winced despite himself. “Come on, you know what I mean. Being gay is, like, kissing dudes and stuff. Bro stuff is one hundred percent fair game.”

Karkat frowned. “Fair game? What the fuck is  _ that _ supposed to mean?” So gender quadrants were only concupiscent? If that were the case, why were they even talking about this? And why would Rose care about Dave’s concupiscent quadrants, anyway? It didn’t add up. “What do your concupiscent quadrants have to do with this?”

“That’s not--fuck. I’m not explaining this right,” Dave was saying, pinching the bridge of his nose to relieve tension. “I don’t think you would get it, dude. You can just like dudes and it’s fine because that’s normal for trolls, but it’s not normal for humans, okay? It’s like this whole big fucking thing.”

“Okay, so explain it to me,” Karkat insisted. When Dave just stared at him, Karkat continued, “I’m serious. This is obviously important to you, right? Is Lalonde going to think less of you for having a guy in your quadrant, is that it?”

Dave made a face. “No? I mean, I don’t think so. I mean, it’s more what she’ll think about all the times I fucking insisted it would never happen.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, man. Because it’s funny?”

Karkat gave him an exasperated look. What was even fucking  _ wrong _ with Dave? One second he seemed like he was opening up, and the next he was still just an asshole. “ _ Personally _ , I don’t see what’s so fucking hilarious of having a guy in my quadrant. You still just sound like a fucking idiot for laughing about it. It’s like you’re fucking laughing at me for having five fucking prongs on each hand even though, hey dumbass,  _ so do you _ !”

Dave cringed a little. “Yeah, ignoring the slanderous and inaccurate-as-hell implications about my interest in dudes, maybe you have a point about it being a shitty joke. Sorry, man. But yeah, no, dudes can be bros on Earth without it being  _ gay _ . Maybe that’s why the quadrant thing is so weird for me, because half of it just sounds like friend shit with extra steps. And it already kind of weirds me out that I’m cool with it? I dunno, man, it’s like I’ve been befriending aliens and just rolling with all your funky social nuance and now I rolled myself onto a fucking monorail and like I’m still rolling with it, I just need to get my bearings, I guess.” Dave paused. “But I do  _ not _ want to have to explain any of this shit to Rose. I don’t want her, like, picking my brain about shit that’s supposed to be private.”

Karkat softened a little. He could make sense of that. Trolls would generally know better than to pry into someone else’s moirallegiance, and even with Kanaya to explain things to her, Rose was certainly no troll. Karkat could imagine how he’d feel if she started butting in. Then, something else started to make sense. 

“Is the gender quadrant thing also supposed to be private?” 

Dave looked caught off guard, then he shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” 

By the tone of Dave’s voice, Karkat suspected he was at most seventy-five percent correct. Good enough. Ignoring how bizarre it was to hide your quadrant preferences from potential mates, Karkat could work with that. He continued, “And if Rose knows you’re pale with me, she might for some bizarre reason take that as an invitation to speculate about your gender quadrant. Which it sounds like she already does--again, for some inexplicable reason--even though it obviously makes you incredibly fucking uncomfortable.”

Dave was nodding along in approval. “See, this is why you’re the go-to guy for quadrant bullshit. You’re figuring out human quadrants I didn’t even know were quadrants.”

Karkat exhaled. No, there was absolutely no chance that he actually got it. None of that made any actual sense. The only thing he’d gotten from that was that Rose was prone to unwanted meddling, and that there was some uniquely human issue at play. Karkat could think of a hundred worse things he’d seen his friends do to each other without it causing half as much stupid drama.

“I will personally fucking inform Rose just how much you hate males, platonically, with regard to how repulsive we are to your weird concupiscent human quadrants if it means you will start replying when she fucking trolls you.”

“Yeah, somehow I think that’d kinda backfire. Don’t tell Rose anything, I’ll talk to her.” 

Karkat looked at him, unconvinced.

“I will! Soon!”

“You fucking better,” Karkat said. “She says she still thinks you two are human friends, which I think requires that you exchange words more often than once a fucking perigee.”

“Dude, chill. I’ll see her at movie night.” Dave was already returning his attention to the “bank building.”

“And respond to her messages. I was serious, I’m not fucking playing messenger.”

Dave shifted in his seat. “I’ll get around to it.” 

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 17.9%

  
  


>==>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta reader Wertiyurae for looking over this for me!
> 
> Next chapter coming soon.
> 
> Happy New Year!


	10. >Karkat: Consider the idea of loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, underage drinking and such.

>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 18.5%

  
  
  


>Karkat: Consider the idea of loss.

  
  
  


On his way to the nutrition block, Karkat sometimes liked to take the scenic route. The meteor was large, dark, and creepy, but Karkat was used to that. At this point, any change of scenery that didn’t fall on his horns out of a dream bubble was fairly welcome. 

Of the various chambers, the most intriguing by far was one spacious hall with a high ceiling. The way the air moved was different in a room of this size, creating almost the illusion of fresh air in the drafty expanse. This room housed perhaps a dozen or more glass tubes containing a variety of organisms in an ambiguous state of suspended animation. While most of the figures were vaguely troll-shaped, the center of the room housed three enormous beasts who reminded Karkat somewhat of the more fearsome lusii naturae that used to live on Alternia.

His eyes were on those, looking up as his footsteps echoed through the chamber, when he heard an audible  _ click _ . 

It took a moment of startled looking back and forth to figure out that the sound had come from a phone camera. Specifically, from Dave’s phone camera. Karkat looked around for a moment for its owner, before he finally saw Dave standing at the base of one of the enormous containment pods. How had Karkat even missed those ridiculous candy-red pajamas?

“Dave? What the hell are you doing?”

“Huh, this is actually pretty good,” Dave responded, as if he hadn’t heard the question. “You wanna see?”

“See what? Motherfucker, if you took a picture of me--”

“And that’s a no,” Dave cut him off. “Your loss, it’s a good picture. Kinda looks like a still from an old sci-fi movie.” 

“Don’t take fucking pictures of me, you idiot,” Karkat grumbled, but he still crossed the distance to Dave and came up beside him to look at the picture. It was kind of a creepy shot, if Karkat was being honest. His chin was tilted up to look at the faces of the giant beasts, and there were humanoid creatures in tubes in the foreground around him. Maybe the composition was surprisingly well-thought-out, but Karkat’s body definitely looked super weird at that angle, and he didn’t like it. “Ugh, especially not if I look like  _ that _ . What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dave laughed. “Oh shut up, you look fine. Y’know, like, for an alien or whatever.” Dave smirked and zoomed in on the photo, onto Karkat’s face. “You look like you fuckin’ own the place, dude. You’ve got a wicked resting bitch face.” Karkat had to stifle the urge to punch him. 

He shoved him instead, a less effective move overall. “What are you even fucking doing lurking around dark corners of the fucking meteor taking pictures of people? Is this a fucking  _ thing _ you’re doing?”

“No, I just saw an opening for a good shot and I took it. Honestly thought you wouldn’t mind?”

“Why the  _ fuck _ wouldn’t I  _ mind _ ?”

Dave looked around the room as “ _ mind _ ” reverberated around it for a moment. “Holy shit, do you have any idea how much your voice echoes? That’s fucking wild.”

“Fucking delete it, Strider! My daily walks to the nutrition block are not a fucking invitation for you to entertain yourself by way of invading my fucking privacy.”

“Okay, okay,” Dave responded in a tone that made Karkat feel inexplicably like an idiot. He held his phone close, tapping at the screen. “It’s a good picture, though. It’s a shame to just delete it.”

“Wow, let’s fucking see how many fucks I give. Oh shit, that sure is a whole lot of fucking nothing in the fucks collection receptacle!  _ Delete it _ .”

“I’m deleting it already. There. Now it’s like it never happened, and you can keep being an insecure prude for the rest of your life.”

Karkat scowled, prongs curling into fists, and as he opened his mouth to begin his scathing retort, Dave cut him off. 

“Wait, before you get started, you wanna give me an opinion on some of these?” Dave held his phone up so Karkat could see what he was doing again, flipping slowly through photos.

Karkat glowered at Dave, bitter at having been anticipated, but altogether not opposed to deescalation. He turned his attention to the photos. Most of them were slight variations on each other, a dozen attempts at a single shot before moving onto the next. Karkat had to admit they were actually pretty good. Some of them were close-ups of various parts of the creatures’ faces, eyes, claws, the ridges along their spines, the bumps of their skin. It was clear Dave had had to fly up to get them, and that he had taken some effort in the framing. 

“This is what you were doing here? Just taking pictures?”

“Yeah, dude. Dunno if you noticed, we aren’t exactly hurting for free time. I don’t have my camera anymore, but I used to take pictures all the fucking time on Earth. I even developed them. I was a regular fucking  _ artiste _ .”

“Wow, even when you manage to actually do something sort of cool, you’re still a big fucking bulge huffer about it.”

“Aw, shucks, really? Karkat Vantas thinks I’m cool? Be still my delicate heart.”

“I’m serious, you’re fucking ruining it. But yeah, I don’t know the first thing about fucking photography, but I think they look pretty cool. It’s really freaky to get a close-up look at their faces like that.”

“Right? They’re actually almost fucking scary up close. I can fly you up if you wa--okay, I’m getting that that’s a no,” Dave finished awkwardly as Karkat just glared at him. He kept scrolling through the photos. “Oh shit, some of these are Earth selfies. Look at that handsome motherfucker.” 

Dave scrolled to a shot that appeared to have been taken in an ablution block mirror. In the picture, Dave was holding his phone with one hand and a sword with the other, hefted casually over one shoulder. His face is smooth, one eyebrow just barely raised. He looks like he thinks he’s the coolest motherfucking thing on planet fucking Earth, and there’s something almost precious about the fact that he had the gall to think that about himself before all the fighting and time travel. He was barely any kind of cool even with those under his belt. 

“You look like a fucking tool,” Karkat chimed in.

“Takes one to know one,” Dave replied immediately, still vaguely smiling down at the photo. “You know, John actually liked this one.”

“That’s because John is an idiot, and his taste is terrible, and everything he likes is disgusting.”

“I thought you guys were friends?”

“We are. Those things are all just  _ true _ .” 

Dave snickered at that as if it were some hilarious inside joke and not the honest, brutal fact of the situation. “It’s too bad you had to be such a pill back in the good ol’ days, Karkat. John needed someone like you to spit those truth bombs in his face all day, and god knows he’s been immune to my bullshit since we popped out of the same goop-tube.” 

Karkat cringed. “Ugh, do you have to fucking  _ put _ it that way? Ectobiology is revolting enough without your personal spin.”

“See, you’re way fucking prissier than John. Though I guess John was pretty uptight about some stuff, so maybe you’re tied? Anyway, you’re definitely way fucking angrier--”

“Dave!” Karkat barked, pulling away from Dave and his phone enough to glare at his opaque shades. “Is there a fucking reason you’re sizing me up against Egbert? Am I missing some kind of human subtext?”

“What?” Dave’s smile faded. “Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just saying, you’re both my bros. Would’ve been cool if you’d just, I dunno. Been chill from the start and been our bro sooner?”

Karkat couldn’t help but grimace a little. “Yeah, I don’t know if I can handle reminiscing about the immense fucking shitshow that was trolling you and your friends. Especially John. In fact, if we can just maybe not talk about me talking to John or anything about that, that would be fucking great.” Karkat braced himself to deflect the inevitable questions, but Dave was scrolling through photos on his phone again, not even remotely paying attention.

“John liked this one, too,” Dave was saying, his face far away, “He never got sick of my shitty selfies. See, his taste was fucking awesome. Just look at this--oh shit, there’s real people in this one.”

“Yes, dumbass, you’re a real person.”

“I mean, like, bystanders and shit. Outside.”

“...So what?” Karkat asked, but even as he said it he knew that looking at the photo was a little uncomfortable, now that Dave had pointed it out. 

All of the things, places, and people in the background of that picture were gone now. It was the kind of rush of perspective that could really ruin a movie night or end a conversation. There was an unspoken rule not to examine it too closely. Certain facts about their lives now--such as their orphaned status, literally, planetarily, existentially--were better glossed over. Though, in Karkat’s experience, one didn’t always have the privilege of glossing over it.

“It’s just weird. Those aren’t actors with perfect fuckin’ bodies or me or Rose, they’re just, like, regular old fuckin’ people. Or were, I guess?  _ Were _ . Fuck. Nope, that’s way too fucking dark.” Dave flicked his thumb over the screen, let the photos from Earth slide away and the camera app return. “Let’s just keep takin’ pictures of the giant monsters that we’re carrying around with us for some fucking reason. And, like, the black-and-white test tube boys. Do you think they’re supposed to be the dominant species on this rock? Starting their own society, taking their own selfies and shit?”

Karkat watched him, let him talk his way out of the hole that was remembering the end of the world. There wasn’t much he could say on the subject without inevitably making everything worse. Once he let himself get started, his grievances would be echoing up and down the cold stone halls until every troll, human, and Mayor knew exactly how he felt. Sometimes, Karkat just couldn’t muster the energy to be that guy. The room sounded hollow around Dave’s words, the occasional bubbling of pressurized liquid punctuating the quiet hum of the vents. After a moment, Dave glanced at Karkat, and whatever he saw in Karkat’s face seemed to signal him to come to rest in a thoughtful, comfortable silence. 

“You ever see anything like one of these?” Dave asked as they looked up at the menacing creatures around them. From their angle on the ground, it was hard to get a good look at their faces. 

“Sort of? Not really.” Karkat thought about it. They did sort of look Alternian, just with extra parts. “Specifically like that, no.”

“So these are just totally alien to both of us,” Dave confirmed, seemingly in approval. “Who knows where they came from, who put them in giant green test tubes. Or is the water green inside? Speaking of which, who filled ‘em up? They’re pretty obviously not dead, so like, did someone used to feed ‘em? Are they like our giant horrorterror pets now? Like having a fucking aquarium or some shit, only for us it’s quasi-preserved eldritch abominations. Which I guess means we get to name ‘em, though I don’t know what the standard name is for a literal giant demon monster. Can’t just call it, like, Rover. Except ironically, but even then, it’s just way too obvious. Huh. What do you think they fucking evolved from?” 

Karkat listened to Dave’s musings as long as they kept coming. He didn’t exactly mind, but he’d had plenty of time to wonder about this block and its contents on his own. He couldn’t get into it the way Dave could. What was nice, what was soothing, was the steady flow of Dave’s train of thought. Karkat wouldn’t admit it, in large part because it would fluster him and Dave both, but he really liked listening to Dave talk when he got like this. As long as he wasn’t saying anything stupid or embarrassing, he didn’t mind just being there and listening. After all, he was Dave’s moirail. This was what he was there for. It was as though, as long as he was there with Dave, he was filling a role. Serving a purpose.

“The pincers on that one kind of remind me of my lusus,” Karkat said eventually, when Dave’s rambling died down. 

“Yeah? That’s kinda cool.” Dave was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Did you, like, hang out with him?”

“My lusus? Yeah, of course. I mean, he was an ornery motherfucker, and I constantly had to strife with him or he’d get fucking antsy.” Karkat frowned, thinking back. It was strange how incongruous his feelings were to his memories. He remembered the strifing, the complaining, the nagging clicks and hisses. Karkat remembered how much of a nuisance his lusus had been at the worst of times, and Karkat missed him fiercely for it. “Sometimes after I calmed him down with roe cubes, I could read to him. I don’t think he ever got the whole romance thing, but he liked it when we spent time together. He had this snuggleplane that he kept putting holes in with his claws. You had to put it on him from behind, he’d attack it on sight for whatever stupid reason. When it got really cold in the autumns and winters, I’d try to sneak it over him when he was asleep. If he woke up, he’d start fussing and moving around, and it was impossible to properly cover his stupid, lazy shell.”

Dave was looking at him, just watching him talk, and Karkat blinked in a failed attempt to keep some unexpected tears from spilling over. “Fuck,” Karkat grumbled, looking away and drawing a finger over his eyes to dry them.

“You, uh. You really miss him, huh?”

Karkat rubbed at his traitorous eyes, trying to wipe away every damning red-tinted drop. “Yes, Dave, excuse me for getting sentimental over my dead lusus from time to time! I don’t know what it’s like for you humans, but that is considered fairly fucking normal for us trolls.” That was mostly true. Getting all teary-eyed over something that happened so long ago now was definitely not in line with the troll ideal, whatever that meant anymore. But why did that matter here now? Besides, Dave was his moirail. It shouldn’t have felt so awkward to be a little sentimental in front of him. 

“Yeah man, I get that.” Dave rubbed the back of his head, sounding stiffly apologetic. “That wasn’t me trying to be a dick, like. Humans too, y’know?”

Karkat softened at that. Of course Dave had lost his lusus, too. They all had. This was a loss and a pain that, in theory, they could all relate to. Karkat could feel a warm, pale pressure in his upper thorax, threatening to catch in his throat until he had to swallow. 

“Did you hang out with your… guardian?” Karkat guessed. He felt like he should at least remember what to call Dave’s lusus, but in all honesty, all the human words for various types of human kinship left Karkat intimidated and confused. Better to stick with something universal.

“Not really. I probably did more ‘hanging out’ with Lil’ Cal, if I’m being honest. Or Lil’ Cal spent more time watching me than Bro did? Fuck, I hope that’s not true, but like… maybe? Like it was always getting into my fucking room somehow, even when Bro was out and had definitely fuckn’ taken Lil’ Cal with him. But, like, I could totally hear him moving around and shit. It was… uh. Hmm.” Dave’s face was getting the haunted sort of quality that Karkat would have expected to see on someone witnessing their own inevitable death.

“Dave?” Karkat cut in.

Dave looked at Karkat, the shadow gone from his face. “What was the question?”

After that, Karkat had another handful of questions he would have preferred to be asking, but he forced those down. He knew Dave had been through shit. They’d all been through shit. This was supposed to be a lighthearted reminisce, tiptoeing around the trauma. “Did you ever do anything together with your… Bro?”

Dave stared at the six strut sticks on the crustacean monster. “Not in years. I mean, I guess he gave me my first set of turntables and maybe stuck around long enough to show me the ropes, but. It wasn’t the kind of thing that would warm the cockles of your pump biscuit.”

“Cockles?” Karkat couldn’t help but respond.

“Pretty sure hearts have those? Now that you’re putting me on the spot, I have no fucking clue where I heard that.”

Karkat watched Dave’s face for what felt like a long moment. He looked pensive and uncomfortable, and Karkat wanted to smooth out whatever was causing the stress lines appearing there. “You’re allowed to fucking talk about him, you know,” Karkat found himself saying. Well, it wasn’t particularly smooth, but whatever got them there. Dave looked at Karkat, eyebrows raised as if that was a genuinely surprising suggestion. Karkat pressed, “I could be way off the mark here, but I’m pretty fucking sure you want to talk about it.”

“It’s not like there’s anything to talk about,” Dave replied. To Karkat’s ear, it wasn’t convincing.

Karkat waited. He watched Dave, who eventually seemed to make eye contact for a second. It was hard to tell, of course. Fucking sunglasses.

“Like, I guess he did his fucking job?” Dave started. “He trained me up for the game and he got me off Earth in one piece, so like, thanks coach? Thanks for, like, leaving food out once in a while that wasn’t fuckin’ booby trapped? Not sure why puppets were such an integral part of the ancient discipline of the bro sword or what was fucking up with that, but I guess I’ll just, I dunno, let that go?”

(“Puppets?” Karkat tried to ask.)

Dave was talking primarily to the monstrous captive audience in front of him in the colossal containment tube. His brow was furrowed and his voice was faintly bitter that, even subdued, was easily recognizable to Karkat. It was the sound of someone who got a raw deal trying--with a pitiful sort of transparency--to sound like they weren’t letting it get to them. “Not like I can’t appreciate another dude’s ironic schtick, right? And that motherfucker knew irony like a blacksmith knows motherfucking iron. Only I guess none of the creepy ironic comics or the creepy motherfucking puppets or, like, any of his other shit actually mattered, ‘cause it’s all gone. And he  _ knew _ it was all gonna be gone, the motherfucker. And then I guess Jack killed him, and… well. I guess… I guess it just sucks.”

Karkat let that sink in, a little intimidated by the honesty. It wasn’t every day that Dave Strider gave him a look into his head. He felt… sort of honored? Which was maybe a little weird, but he couldn’t help it. He was honored that Dave had opened up to him. Dave was looking thoughtful. He turned his head subtly towards Karkat when the latter hadn’t replied for a moment. Karkat silently panicked. He was glad this was happening, but the truth was, he had absolutely no frame of reference for anything he’d just heard. Obviously some of it had been unusual, obviously some of it had been painful, but all in all, Karkat had heard about plenty of strange lusus-troll relationships. Given that Dave’s “Bro” was no lusus, Karkat truly didn’t know what he was supposed to say here. He wished he could just… understand.

“Seriously though, can you explain the thing with the puppets?”

Dave grimaced at that, and Karkat wondered with no small amount of horror what kind of demented carnival Dave had been living in before the game. 

“Nah,” Dave said after a moment. “We don’t need to get into it or anything.”

Karkat waited, but in the ensuing silence, it became clear that they really didn’t.

  
  
  


>Karkat: Meddle with your moirail’s business. 

  
  
  


\--tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 04:15--

TT: Hello Karkat.

TT: How are you today?

CG: HELLO.

  1. FINE? WHAT’S GOING ON?



TT: Nothing really.

TT: I wanted to make sure you remember that we’re coming up on some more dream bubbles in a couple of weeks.

TT: I know it’s been some time since the last ones.

CG: YEAH OKAY.

CG: I GUESS I DID FORGET, SO THANKS.

CG: IS THAT EVERYTHING?

TT: I suppose.

TT: Did I catch you at a busy time?

CG: PLEASE.

CG: I THINK THAT’S A LITERAL IMPOSSIBILITY ANYWHERE ON THIS FUCKING METEOR.

CG: WHAT DO ANY OF US HAVE TO DO?

TT: Then perhaps you have a moment longer to chat?

CG: IS THIS ABOUT DAVE?

TT: That’s a fair guess, given that we rarely speak about anything else.

CG: IS HE STILL NOT TALKING TO YOU?

CG: I TOLD HIM TO TEXT YOU.

TT: He did send me a brief message, but we haven’t spoken since.

TT: I will be frank

TT: I’m worried about him.

TT: I was giving him space to sort out his feelings because he didn’t seem interested in speaking to me about them.

TT: Admittedly at a certain point I was merely too embroiled in other projects and pursuits to maintain what one-sided communication we still had.

TT: Certain things I have heard from you and others lead me to have concerns about Dave’s mental health. 

TT: You seem to be the only person Dave speaks to regularly, and you have continually told me that he is ‘fine.’

TT: I would like to trust you on your assessment, but I hope you can understand why I would have reservations.

CG: HE *IS* FINE. 

CG: I MEAN, HOW FINE ARE ANY OF US?

CG: BUT HE ISN’T IN ANY ACTUAL DANGER.

TT: No offense, Karkat.

TT: Not being in danger doesn’t necessarily mean a human is fine.

CG: NO SHIT, REALLY?

CG: I KNOW YOU PROBABLY THINK THAT’S A HELPFUL CULTURAL TIDBIT, BUT TROLLS DO IN FACT HAVE FEELINGS, TOO.

TT: Fair enough.

CG: BESIDES, UNTIL RECENTLY, I THOUGHT YOU TWO WERE TALKING.

CG: YOU TALK AT MOVIE NIGHT.

TT: Yes, but not very much. And we haven’t had movie night in some time.

CG: …

CG: DO YOU KNOW WHY HE WON’T TALK TO YOU?

TT: I really don’t, Karkat. 

TT: It’s very frustrating. 

TT: Do you?

CG: NOT REALLY.

CG: OR I GUESS

CG: I THINK HE THINKS YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE HIM TALK ABOUT THINGS HE DOESN’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT. 

TT: Such as?

CG: THAT’S ALL I’M GOING TO SAY.

CG: IN FACT

CG: I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT HIM BEHIND HIS BACK ANYMORE.

CG: WHICH I REALIZE I SHOULD HAVE FUCKING LED WITH AT THE START OF THIS CONVERSATION, BUT HERE WE FUCKING ARE.

TT: I suppose I can understand that.

TT: My goal isn’t to make him uncomfortable. 

TT: Though I am a little angry that he’s been avoiding me, from my perspective, without just cause.

CG: YEAH. 

CG: THAT’S PRETTY SHITTY OF HIM.

  
  


\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 04:23--

CG: HEY.

CG: LET’S DO MOVIE NIGHT TOMORROW.

TG: sup

TG: yea sure

TG: you find another romcom i need to see

CG: NO. I DON’T CARE WHAT WE WATCH.

CG: I WANT TO INVITE ROSE.

CG: SO YOU CAN TALK TO HER.

TG: what

TG: uh

CG: I DON’T THINK YOU SHOULD AVOID HER ANYMORE.

CG: UNLESS YOU CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE RIGHT NOW.

TG: im not “avoiding” rose

TG: i said ill get around to talking to her

TG: no need to get involved

CG: YEAH NO.

CG: IT’S ACTUALLY INSULTING THAT YOU THINK THAT’S CONVINCING.

CG: YOU’RE AVOIDING THE ONLY OTHER MEMBER OF YOUR SPECIES THAT WE KNOW FOR NO ADEQUATE REASON.

CG: WHICH MEANS YOU ARE CUTTING OUT THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN BE OF ASSISTANCE IF ANYTHING STUPID AND HUMAN HAPPENS TO YOU THAT I DON’T UNDERSTAND.

CG: THIS DEFINITELY FALLS UNDER THE CATEGORY OF “SELF-SABOTAGING HOOFBEAST SHIT” AND I’M NOT GOING TO STAND FOR IT.

CG: UNLESS YOU HAVE A BETTER PLAN FOR HOW YOU ARE GOING TO RECTIFY THE SITUATION, IT’S GOING TO HAVE TO BE MOVIE NIGHT TOMORROW.

TG: fuck

TG: ok

TG: fine

TG: i guess thats fine

CG: WAIT.

CG: REALLY? 

CG: THAT SEEMS TOO EASY.

TG: yea i mean

TG: i was kinda meaning to talk to her anyway

TG: for a while now i guess

TG: and yea you got me thinking about it

TG: and

TG: uh

TG: honestly

TG: i think i get what youre doing

TG: like i get that this is like a pale thing or whatever

TG: i mean

TG: youre being super bossy about my shit

TG: like just straight up making executive decisions in the boardroom of my life

TG: so im guessing thats what this is

TG: but actually

TG: now that i said it like

TG: it is a pale thing right

CG: HOLY FUCK.

CG: YES.

CG: I AM BECOMING INVESTED IN YOUR LIFE BECAUSE I AM YOUR MOIRAIL.

CG: DO I HAVE TO EXPLAIN THIS AGAIN? BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE WE KIND OF GOT INTO THIS AT FUCKING *LENGTH* AND I MIGHT HAVE TO KILL MYSELF IF IT DIDN’T STICK.

TG: haha wow

TG: karat fucking vantas is tired of yelling about quadrants

TG: i never thought id see the day

CG: OH FUCK YOU

CG: YOU WANT ME TO SCHOOLFEED YOU ON MOIRALLEGIANCE?

CG: I CAN BE THERE WITH A FUCKING CHALK SLATE IN TEN GODDAMN MINUTES.

TG: oh god no

TG: down boy

TG: heel

CG: SHUT UP.

CG: I’M NOT A FUCKING BARKBEAST.

TG: i was just checking

TG: about the pale thing

TG: cuz like on earth

TG: its also a thing

TG: like if your friends are fighting and you want them to make up

TG: you make them talk

TG: and it makes sense to do it before we hit dream bubbles

TG: since i guess well be doing that more soon

TG: so fine

TG: movie night it is

TG: lets get this sibling reconciliation business going

TG: flip that sign to open

CG: OKAY GREAT!

CG: I WAS NOT EXPECTING YOU TO AGREE SO QUICKLY.

TG: i wasnt really expecting to be “avoiding” her

TG: to be honest

TG: time flies when youre hurtling through space

TG: or something

TG: shit happens

TG: its kind of fucked up that shes texting you about me so much

TG: though

TG: thats why youre trolling me about it right

TG: shes online now

TG: that must be it

CG: OKAY YES I’M TALKING TO ROSE RIGHT NOW.

TG: i knew it

CG: DOES THAT BOTHER YOU?

CG: IT’S NOT LIKE I’M NOT FUCKING SPILLING YOUR SECRETS TO HER.

TG: i mean no

TG: but like

TG: rose just has a sixth sense for this shit

TG: she has like

TG: super saiyan nosy sister powers

CG: COOL, COOL.

CG: I UNDERSTOOD NONE OF THAT.

TG: well like

TG: were kind of related i guess

TG: which makes her like my super nosy meddling sister

TG: an im supposed to be all exasperated as fuck about it

TG: thats like the classic dynamic

CG: WHAT?

TG: dude ive explained family to you before

TG: i know for a fact you know what a sister is

CG: EXCUSE ME FOR NOT MEMORIZING EVERY PIECE OF HUMAN TRIVIA YOU BABBLE AT ME.

TG: what the fuck

TG: i dont babble

CG: YOU DO SO FUCKING BABBLE.

TG: shots fucking fired

CG: ANYWAY.

CG: I NEED TO GET BACK TO ROSE.

CG: TOMORROW, MOVIE NIGHT, TALKING WITH YOUR “SISTER.” 

CG: YOU GOOD WITH THAT?

TG: yeah

TG: im good with that

CG: OKAY

CG: YEAH

CG: <>

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 04:29--

  
  


\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] trolled tentacleTherapist [TT] at 04:29--

CG: CAN YOU COME TO MOVIE NIGHT TOMORROW?

CG: DAVE SAYS HE’LL TALK TO YOU.

TT: What?

TT: Just like that?

CG: JUST LIKE THAT.

CG: DO ME A FAVOR AND TRY NOT TO SCARE HIM OFF.

CG: IF I HAVE TO BUTT IN ON ANYMORE RIDICULOUS HUMAN SOCIAL DRAMA, WE WILL ALL HAVE THE EXTREME FUCKING MISFORTUNE OF LIVING TO REGRET IT.

CG: I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR “DYNAMIC” AND IF YOU TWO FUCK THIS UP I WILL UPCHUCK SO MUCH FUCKING RAGEFIRE THAT EVERY FUCKING ONE OF US WILL BURN TO DEATH IN IT. 

TT: Understood.

TT: I will be there.

CG: GOOD. 

TT: Thank you, Karkat

TT: For butting in.

CG: HOLY SHIT.

CG: I THINK I’VE WAITED MY WHOLE LIFE TO HEAR THOSE EXACT FUCKING WORDS.

CG: YOU’RE FUCKING WELCOME.

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling tentacleTherapist [TT] at 04:37--

  
  
  


>Dave: Talk to your sister.

  
  
  


“Well,” Karkat announced when the movie was over, the screen was off, and the three of them had been sitting in silence for a couple of minutes, “I think I promised the Mayor some help with a project, so I had better get going and help him. With that.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll come with--” Dave started to get up, but Karkat stopped him with a firm, annoyed hand on his shoulder. 

“Nope,” Karkat said. “He doesn’t need you for this one. Looks like you can just stay right the fuck here for as long as fucking necessary.” 

Dave stared up at him impassively, trying to avoid Rose’s eyes on them. Karkat was giving him a meaningful glare, and it’s not like he was being particularly subtle. Not that there was any actual need. They were all pretty distinctly aware of the elephant in the room. Ignoring it as long as they all had was starting to feel like bad form. Dave made the decision not to be more difficult about it than necessary. 

“Alright, message received. Say hi to him for me.”

“It was nice to see you, Karkat,” Rose said in the same moment as Karkat’s hand left Dave’s shoulder. 

“See you later, Lalonde,” Karkat replied, taking his cue to abscond. 

The silence he left in his wake was suffocating. Dave tried not to look Rose in the eye. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. He didn’t want to see her smug face after Karkat had very obviously just left the two of them alone to talk.

“It sounds like Karkat and the Mayor are certainly getting along,” Rose finally observed, smiling into the rim of her mug. “I might not have expected that particular pair.”

“Don’t be underestimating my good friend, the Mayor. Nobody is immune to his charms, not even Nubs McYellmouth.”

“If that’s the case, maybe I ought to spend more time with him myself. See what all the fuss is about.” She took a sip. “The Mayor, I mean.”

“Yeah, I mean--yeah. Maybe I’ll bring him to movie night? I don’t know if he’d be into it.” Dave could feel his hands starting to sweat. He felt like he was anticipating a brutal beatdown with his whole body, some kind of response to the months of avoidance and overall shitty friend behavior. Oh god, she wasn’t waiting for Dave to say something, was she?

“Do carapacians have a strong cinema culture?” she was asking, downright politely.

“Honestly? I have no clue. He barely ever talks about where he’s from or anything. Little dude mostly just likes working with his hands, not staring into screens.” Dave forced himself to sit back, adopt a more casual position. “I’m raising him right, Rose. He’s not gonna grow up a phone-obsessed hunchback zombie like all his classmates. We’re kind of fucked for sunlight or open fields, but that doesn’t stop the Mayor from exercisin’ up a healthy appetite. He’ll eat just about anything, but hey, he’s a growing, uh, chess-bug alien.”

“ _ Is  _ he?” Rose asked with genuine curiosity. “How old is he?”

Dave shrugged. “Who even  _ knows _ . The Mayor’s a man of mystery.”

Rose was looking at him, purple eyes sparkling with curiosity. “It’s certainly interesting that, despite not being sure of his age, you’ve adopted such a paternal mindset towards him.”

“Fuck, Rose, why do you gotta  _ say _ it that way? I’m not trying to adopt the Mayor or whatever, he’s just my tiny alien bro. Like Karkat’s my regular-size alien bro, just the cartoon sidekick version.”

“Hmm,” Rose said vaguely, lips slightly upturned and eyes dancing as if she had the most delicious gossip. “Sounds like you’ve fallen in with quite the multicultural little group.”

“Dave Strider is no xenophobe,” Dave stated easily, crossing his arms and settling back casually-on-purpose to punctuate his comfort with the alien factor of it all. He’d decided this ahead of time: he wasn’t going to address the pale elephant in the room until Rose brought it up first. Let her try to tease it out of him, he wasn’t budging a goddamn inch. 

“That’s what I hear,” Rose affirmed. Dave looked at her, and she looked like she was trying to hold in a laugh. Not that smooth, Lalonde. Was her face... weirdly red? Goddamn shades. “Although I suppose it would be difficult to be, given our current company.”

“You and Kanaya are pretty chummy, right? Some kind of interspecies something something going on there?” Changing the subject was a tried-and-true Strider standby, and by the way Rose smiled, it seemed to be working. Though, that fact in itself was throwing Dave for a loop. Why was she smiling? Why were they just chatting? Shouldn’t he be in, like, way more trouble than this?

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by that,” Rose said lightly. “It’s true that we’ve been getting to know each other, and she has been gracious in sharing her culture and history with me from time to time. It’s been very illuminating.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I gained a better understanding of Vriska and Terezi, for example, when Kanaya explained the connection that some trolls have to their ancestors. It’s certainly put the costumes in perspective.”

“Karkat told me it’s all just ‘elitist highblood bullshit,’ whatever that means. Sounded like weird alien politics, I kind of just tuned it out.”

Rose looked at him strangely. “I suppose it makes sense that Karkat would have a different perspective, given his position in the troll social strata.”

Right. Dave always forgot about the weird blood thing. Karkat didn’t seem to like talking about it, and Dave was generally happy to leave the issue alone. He settled into the couch. “I don’t know, I think cosplaying your dead great-great-sperm-donor is pretty freaky, even by the standards of the cosplay community.”

“I thought you weren’t a xenophobe?” Rose asked wryly.

“Not a xenophobe, just calling it what it is.” Dave paused. “So you and Kanaya hang out with the weird sisters now?”

“I believe it’s ‘Scourge Sisters,’ though I’m still a little unclear on what that entails. We actually saw them just a few days ago. It sounds like they’re back on base for good, or at least a few months.”

“I was starting to think they just ditched us.” It was a fact, not a problem. Sure, it was weird that Terezi hadn’t made much of an effort to maintain their friendship once the dust had settled, but it was old news. In all honesty, Dave had his own reservations about her. The whole coin flip fiasco had put a bad taste in his mouth.

“They wanted to take the opportunity to travel the meteor before we hit more of the bigger dream bubbles. Now that they’re getting closer, it’s safer to have all hands on deck, as it were.”

“How’s Terezi these days?” Dave asked as casually as he could. It was polite to ask, wasn’t it? Something like that.

“She seems well,” Rose said. “Why don’t you talk to her yourself and find out?”

Dave shrugged at that, a classic noncommittal coolkid shrug. Then Rose took another sip of her “tea.”

“What’s in the mug, Rose?” Dave asked. 

Rose blinked at him, her smile becoming guarded, face turning thoughtful. “I’m not sure what the  _ exact _ equivalent on Earth would be. If I had to guess, it’s something close to vodka, which I’ve mixed into something sort of like lemonade. Alchemizing anything new that’s edible is still pretty tricky, but I’d say it’s not  _ un _ palatable.”

“Holy shit, you made booze? You can do that? Since when?”

“I’ve been tinkering with the recipe on and off for a little while,” Rose said, somewhat pointedly. “It’s been something of a recent side project. The first batch was so strong I shelved the whole thing for a while. This attempt came out much... smoother,” Rose finally found the right word after a few seconds of deliberation.

Why did Dave feel sort of guilty at that? It wasn’t as though he could judge Rose for what she was doing. They’d been through as close to literal hell as was likely to exist, and if Rose needed to drown some sorrows or lift some spirits or whatever, that didn’t seem like the worst idea. What was the issue, really? That she wasn’t twenty-one? Nobody was, anymore. There was still a good chance that none of them ever would be, in fact. So why not enjoy themselves while they could, right? No harm no foul.

But Dave knew that that couldn’t be all that was going on. He knew Rose’s mom had been kind of a huge alcoholic. That fact connected to this little “side project” somehow. Dave just couldn’t quite put the pieces together. What he could put together was that he’d checked out of their friendship, and in the meantime Rose had picked up drinking. That didn’t really mean anything, those things weren’t really related, but it gnawed at the back of his mind in a bad way. 

Rose was just looking at him, like there was a dark, clever joke written across his sunglasses. He was already out of words to say to her, her purple gaze already making him want to flash step away. She seemed to be expecting something. His palms still felt embarrassingly damp, his heart pumping a little harder as if in anticipation of absconding the fuck out of there. The weight of just how incredibly shitty a friend Dave had been up to this point was pressing unforgivingly on his chest. What was he supposed to say, exactly? What would make this situation less agonizing?

Dave’s eyes fell on the mug in Rose’s hand.

“Wanna mix me one of those?”

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 20.0%

  
  


>==>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta reader Wertiyurae for looking over this for me!
> 
> Next chapter coming soon.


	11. >Dave: Try to understand the blood caste thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Underage drinking, brief mentions of past abuse.

<==<

  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 16.0%

  
  
  


>Dave: Try to understand the blood caste thing.

  
  


Dave sat up from his spot laying back on the couch in the common room. Karkat sat in an armchair and read from there while Dave listened, in a sort of inversion of lying on a Freud couch in a therapy session from a movie. It was nice when they could get the common room to themselves like this. Storytime with Karkat was fine and chill, but admittedly, if anyone else joined in it quickly became clear that reading softcore porn might’ve been a kind of weird thing to do with your friends. Dave tried not to think too hard about it. Life on the meteor was weird in all kinds of ways.

_ “The highblood’s eyes shone a strong, deep purple in the moonlight, like the color of a deep river in the pale pink night. They were powerful eyes that communicated the powerful fact of his cool, rich blood coursing through his resolute form. Mirden shivered instinctively to be so close to those eyes, to his teeth, to the telltale curved horns of his higher station--” _

Like in that moment, when Dave was starting to pick up on the fetish-y overtones in which this book seemed to like to paint the whole blood caste thing. Which, like, gross? Right?

“So like, I’m getting the feeling that the whole blood thing is kind of a major kink for you guys, huh.”

Karkat squeezed his eyes shut, taking a breath like a public school teacher trying to talk himself down from quitting. “It’s a common fantasy, Strider. Highbloods need more pacifying than lowbloods, on average, so a lot of the books happen to feature them prominently in redrom pairings. Can I continue now?”

“Hang on, though,” Dave said. He was used to Karkat going on and on about quadrants just about any chance he got, and it was strange to find something Alternian that Karkat just didn’t want to talk about. “So like, highblood equals more likely to kill people? I always thought the blood thing was kind of more... cultural, I guess?”

“It’s a mix of both,” Karkat said testily. “Or, it  _ was _ back in the ancient fucking past when Alternia was a thing and the hemospectrum mattered.”

“Sure,” Dave said by way of acknowledgement. “I dunno, it just sounds like this is kind of a big deal, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you or, like, Kanaya getting all rainbow racist.”

Karkat shot him a withering look. “Maybe we just have better things to fucking worry about? Characters in human films are constantly yammering about the erratic behaviors of the local climate and cloud formations. Should I be taking note that you and Rose aren’t engaging in your native cultural behaviors?”

Dave looked at him appraisingly. Karkat was holding the book partway open between them, like a wall he was ready to fortify when necessary. “My spidey senses are kind of tingling here. This isn’t another shitfit landmine, is it?”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “ _ No. _ I have no fucking problem discussing this subject, I’m sure much to everyone’s fucking surprise. Everyone gather the fuck around! Karkat’s going to talk about the hemospectrum in a  _ totally chill manner _ without any mutation-related hangups getting in the way of this  _ completely fucking necessary _ cross-culture education!” 

“Shitfit it is, gotcha.”

“ _ I am not throwing a ‘shitfit’!”  _ Karkat snapped. Dave raised an eyebrow at him, and he wasn’t sure whether Karkat picked up the silent comment, but he did take a deep breath to steady himself. Or two or three deep breaths. It was crazy how much gratuitous intensity could fit into one kinda-scrawny troll.

“You good?” Dave checked in.

“Yes. Shut up,” Karkat grumbled. “What was your actual question?”

Dave shrugged in a cool, practiced move that ended with his arms up on the back of the couch. “I was just checking if blood is actually that big a deal, or if your books are just kinky. But it kinda feels like I got the answer.”

For a moment, Karkat seemed to be considering, and then his face settled in an expression that suggested he’d figured out some mean joke being played at his expense. “For the love of fuck, Strider,  _ I do not have a highblood kink _ . Seriously just about the furthest fucking thing from that. It’s just a common fucking narrative. If you have a problem with the diversity of relationships represented in my fucking library, you can direct your complaints to my gaping nook.”

Dave bit back a laugh. Karkat’s face was just so fucking serious. “Dude, I never even  _ said _ that. I do  _ not _ need to know about your kinks.”

Karkat just groaned, dropping his head dramatically onto the open pages of the book in his hand. A face-book, rather than a face-palm, so to speak. “Can we  _ please _ just go back to the book?”

Dave nodded once with a small smirk. “Permission granted, bro. Read on.”

Karkat glared at him warily, but he did start reading again.

  
  
  


>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS: 20.0%

  
  
  


>Dave: Try to talk around your shared loss.

  
  
  


“This stuff tastes like someone pissed in a Tang and left it out in the sun,” was Dave’s verdict on the alchemized vodka sour.

“You should have tasted the first few attempts,” Rose said, nose crinkling. “In comparison, I find this downright pleasant.” She put out her mug. “Cheers?”

Dave reached over awkwardly and clinked his ceramic coffee mug against hers. “Uh, okay.” He sat back again and watched as Rose finished her drink and decaptchalogued the bottle for a refill. 

“Do you ever find yourself sort of… curious about the Earth?”

“You got it backwards. That’s the one we’re  _ from _ . Are you already drunk?”

“Oh hush. I  _ meant _ Earth. I don’t know about you, but I lived a pretty sheltered life back home. I always thought I’d leave there and, I don’t know. Travel?”

“Where would you have even gone?”

“I’m not even sure what my options would have been. The pyramids of Giza? The Roman Coliseum? Hawaii? I never thought I would need to have the seven wonders of the world memorized, but now they’re gone, with nobody to remember them.”

“That’s a little dark for drunk talk, Rose. Maybe rein it in.” Dave took another drink while Rose just gave him a bemused look. “Alright, I mean. I may have at some point considered something like that. I guess, when I explain Earth shit to Karkat, I don’t even feel like an actual expert? Because, what the fuck, we’re so not ‘Earth experts.’”

“I certainly cannot claim that title,” Rose agreed solemnly. She seemed to be thinking, processing something. Dave could tell that when she said it, he wasn’t going to like it. “Dave, do you ever get the feeling that we’re getting less human?”

He was right. He didn’t like it.

“What are you even  _ talking _ about?”

“Think about it,” Rose said, as easily as if she were explaining the meaning behind a pretentious art film. “We spend all of our time around trolls, absorbing their lingo and their culture. Kanaya has taught me a lot, and you’ve certainly been receiving quite the cross-cultural education from Karkat. We weren’t exactly born ‘Earth experts’ to begin with. We weren’t even actually  _ born _ .”

Dave swallowed, watching Rose’s altogether-too-sober face. Was this the kind of shit on Rose’s mind all the time, or was this the alcohol talking? For that matter, how much had she even had, before Dave had noticed? Her eyes were surprisingly clear, her face fronting amusement despite the troubled edge on her words. Dave forced himself not to fidget with the handle of his much, keeping his hands and face steady as ever.

“Isn’t that all kind of old news?” Dave said when it became clear that he had to say something. “I thought we all kinda silently agreed to be chill about the ecto-clone situation.”

Rose looked at him a little differently, as if assessing something. “I wasn’t aware of any such agreement,” she finally said. “But if you can’t commiserate I certainly won’t force the issue.”

There was silence for about sixteen seconds as Dave drank and Rose didn’t force the issue. 

“Alright look,” Dave said, giving into the pressure. “I’ll say this once because I guess I should, but then we gotta make a u-turn away from Downer City, because I am not spending the next six hours breathing smog and road rage while shank-armed hobos descend on our angst-overcome corpses.”

Rose nodded her assent. As a bonus, she looked like she was into the metaphor. Dave kicked one leg up onto the couch, getting comfortable, and he continued.

“I get that being human should probably be a bigger deal to me, and I get that I should probably care more about evangelizing about human culture and stuff, knockin’ on doors and spreading the good news about all the sickest Earth memes. But that’s, like, one slice of the discount pumpkin pie, and after one slice you start to taste that gross off-brand pumpkin filling it’s got, and you just don’t want to keep eating. There’s just so much fucking  _ baggage _ . Now I hang with aliens, and they don’t give two shits about my baggage pie. They don’t get why I wouldn’t just throw it out, even though ‘it was on sale’ and it’s ‘wasting food’ and whatever other excuses. It’s a bad pie, and I’m down to toss it.”

Rose was watching, her expression moving through worry into thoughtful resignation. “May I ask about what kind of ‘baggage’ you’re avoiding confronting by keeping non-human company?”

“Nope. We’re not doing this.”

“Dave.” Shit. Her face was doing the sad and worried thing that made Dave feel guilty as fuck for not telling her stuff. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Of course he knew. That wasn’t the issue. This was on Dave, for not being there to maintain their friendship. It was on him for not being able to just be open with people that wanted to be there for him, even when they were his best friends. And yeah, it was sort of on Rose for pushing too hard. But he let Karkat push him, didn’t he? Maybe it was sort of on Karkat, for a while. It was on him for somehow being the most and the least judgmental guy Dave knew, for making it easy to avoid dealing with anyone and anything else for a long time.

Dave finished what was in his cup. Warmth rushed to his cheeks and temples, just a gentle dusting of sensation. Rose’s eyes were still on him, and in that moment he felt particularly grateful for his shades. 

“Rose, I’m serious. Just shut up, pour the fucking moonshine, and let’s u-turn the fuck out of this pity party.”

  
  


>Karkat: Commiserate with someone who might understand. 

  
  
  


As it turned out, the Mayor did not, in fact, need Karkat’s help with any projects. The little guy was napping on the pile of cushions and blankets that Dave added to periodically. Karkat didn’t want to wake him, and he didn’t really want to go back to his own respiteblock just yet, so he opted for a walk around the facilities. He told himself it was just to stretch his legs, just to combat the tense monotony of meteor life, and that was at least partly true. But in actual fact, he had left Dave alone with someone who obviously caused him no small amount of stress. He was second-guessing himself, and he was working hard to stop himself from going straight back to the common room and giving Dave an out. But he’d second-guessed a lot of his decisions as leader over the course of his session, and under all the nerves, he was pretty sure this was a good decision. 

Karkat’s wandering took him down empty corridors and through gaping, stoney halls. He walked briskly through the ectobiology lab, eyes glancing off the familiar and haunting equipment. He lingered in the hall of preserved monsters, studying the enormous corpses for what felt like the hundredth time. There was something nostalgic about the casual presence of beasts, but the question of who had built all this and why was the ever-present leatherhide trumpetbeast in the block. With all the other heavy stuff to wonder about, Karkat didn’t like to think too hard about the origins of their crumbling mad science haven. He moved on, navigating towards a familiar observation deck. He listened to his own footsteps, crisp and clear, down the hallways and up the grey stone steps of one of the towers.

When he arrived, it was in a flat, open chamber penned in on all sides by tall, crumbling walls. The floor looked like it may have once been smooth, but it had seen better days, presumably, at some point. The space was sparse, no heavy equipment and a minimum of odd pipes and protrusions along the perimeter. A couple of benches and errant storage chests were pushed back against the tallest, most functionally complete walls. There was no ceiling, and the air blew in cold and dry from the stale atmosphere outside.

Karkat noticed immediately that he wasn’t alone. A bench had been dragged into the middle of the floor, where a slender figure with a glowing complexion sat and watched the sky. 

“Karkat,” Kanaya greeted amicably. “It’s unexpected to bump into anyone out here.”

“Yeah, you’d think in a place this size that wouldn’t happen so much.”

“Were you hoping for some quiet time in solitary contemplation of the cosmos?”

“I wasn’t  _ hoping _ for anything,” Karkat replied, seating himself on the bench beside Kanaya. “But I’m glad I bumped into you. I just left the humans in the common block, presumably to talk out whatever nookbiting nonsense has them so obstinately avoiding each other in the first place.”

“Really?” She didn’t seem surprised. Rose had probably told her. “That’s quite the development, if that’s the case.”

“Who fucking knows if it’ll work. Do you think all humans are this stupid with their emotions or did we just get the defective ones?”

Kanaya gave him a compassionate little smile. “I may admit to wondering something similar now and again. Interspecies diplomacy is… tricky,” she settled on, some distant frustration settling over her eyes.

Karkat snorted. “I’d bet you every worthless boonbuck I have that Strider is  _ way _ worse than Rose.”

“I’m not sure it needs to be a competition,” Kanaya returned with amusement. “And, if it were, I imagine we may have differing criteria.” 

“Maybe they can bust each other’s bulges for a change and get it out of their systems.”

“We can only hope,” Kanaya responded wryly. 

Around them, the air was cold and dry. The lights around the edges of the observation deck were dim, the batteries powering them slowly dying. The glow from Kanaya provided most of the light for their conversation, which Karkat didn’t mind. The dimness of the meteor was something Karkat was used to, had come to appreciate. Of all the things to give him a headache, sunlight didn’t have to be one of them. For a moment, Karkat just looked out at the blank canvas of paradox space, listening to the ambient anxieties weighing down his breath.

“Do you understand the whole human ‘family’ thing?” Karkat finally asked Kanaya.

“Not in the slightest,” Kanaya responded without missing a beat.

“Dave and Rose are… that? Right? They share some genes in common?”

“That is my understanding, yes. Rose calls him her brother.”

“Dave called her a ‘meddling sister,’ but I have no idea what that means,” Karkat grumbled. He thought about it, then added, “It sounds fucking pale to me, is what it fucking sounds like.”

“I thought you were the one who orchestrated their reconciliation?” Kanaya asked lightly. “Surely you wouldn’t have done that if you saw Rose as a pale rival?”

“Shut up, she is not my fucking rival,” Karkat shot back. Even as he said it, he wasn’t entirely sure it was true. Not that he had gotten any inkling from Dave that he might be interested in anything beyond friendship with Rose, anyway. Rose’s intentions were sort of a different story. “And if Dave was even remotely pale for her, it’s not like I’d have to try so fucking hard to get him to talk to her.” 

Kanaya spread her hands. “In that case, perhaps it is not so pale a relationship after all? Though if I’m being honest, I did have the same instinct at first, when Rose explained it to me. Though Rose also told me that family is not permitted to also be quadrantmates, for whatever that is worth.”

Karkat thought about that. It made his head sort of hurt. Did that make Rose’s meddling a pale overture, or no? Was the family thing what humans did instead of having pale relationships? If that was the case, then Dave and Rose had been doing a terrible job at being family together. If that was the case, did that make Karkat superfluous if they improved at their littermate roles? At the same time, Dave had recognized Karkat’s meddling as pale, and he’d seemed to welcome it. Didn’t that mean that his moirallegiance with Karkat was filling its intended role, regardless of whatever familiar fondness existed between Dave and his “sister?” 

“I can’t believe such a blatantly underdeveloped species can manage to be so confusingly complicated. What the  _ fuck _ ,” Karkat breathed in frustration.

Kanaya nodded her empathy, and the two of them continued to watch the unchanging sky.

  
  
  


>Dave: Consider the human concept called family. 

  
  
  


“One time, prior to my birthday, I made the mistake of commenting on this new painting my mother had acquired. She seemed to take this as interest, because she bought me an easel and an enormous oil painting kit with a huge variety of colors. Naturally, in response, I had to spite-paint an amateurish replica of the original painting which had started the whole thing, and then  _ she _ had the gall to get the stupid thing framed for Christmas!” Rose gestured idly with her liquor mug as if it were a natural extension of her body as she talked, growing more entertained by her own story as she went. 

“Yeah, I don’t fucking get you and your mom. Sound like you’re just kind of bein’ nice to each other only you’re pretendin’ it’s all ironic.”

“Oh, hush. If we’re conducting personal analysis,  _ your _ home life is a veritable treasure trove of a case study.”

Dave snorted. “I can see it fucking now: Smuppet or Leave It: The Effect of Dicknosed Puppets on Child Development.”

Rose laughed at that, a real and natural laugh. Without the influence of alcohol, that felt like sort of a rare sight.

“What’d you get for your last birthday?”

“Uh…” Dave thought about it. His brain was getting hazy and a little tired, but he pushed through it. Somehow, he only found the one story to tell. “This wasn’t last year, but one time Bro just kinda wrapped up a dead pigeon and left it on my bed. Not like in a box, either, just the pigeon and like a bit of newspaper to wrap it in.”

“Are you serious? That’s disgusting!”

“Disgusting was the second fucking dead pigeon hiding in my closet. Took me a day and a half to find it. Feathery asshole was a bitch to clean up, I’ll tell you.” 

“That’s some…  _ truly  _ surreal irony, Dave.”

Dave could feel something tightening in his chest. He knew that there was a good reason why he didn’t tell those kinds of stories about his Bro. For one thing, nobody needed to fucking hear that shit. But for another, the sound of concern in Rose’s voice made Dave’s stomach clench around what felt like a cold and awful weight. Sure, there were plenty of things about his Bro that were hard to entirely make peace with, if peace were a thing that needed making, but that didn’t mean it was okay for anyone else to come barging in with their normal gift giving expectations and their opinions.

But what Dave said was, “I mean, it  _ was _ ironic. Bro was a literal fuckin’ god of ironic performance art.”

“I can never tell when you’re being serious,” Rose declared with a dismissive shake of her head. “But my mom once built a whole  _ cat mausoleum _ as an ironic gesture, so perhaps she could run--could run him…  _ give him a run _ for his money!” She sounded proud to have figured it out. “Ha! Remember  _ money _ , Dave?”

Dave exhaled, wondering when he had gotten so tense. “Remember when I started my own stock market?  _ That _ was rad. Making boonbucks hand over fist, regular motherfucking Wolf of Wall Street over here.”

“We’re talking about Earth stuff,” Rose insisted. “What Earth stuff do you miss?”

Dave frowned. Earth stuff? Sure. There was some good Earth stuff to be missed, for sure. He tried to remember. “ _ Actually _ good movies and not just whatever trash I downloaded ironically before the meteors hit. Taco Bell, good  _ god _ I miss me some Taco Bell. All those shitty webcomics I used to follow. Hearing about all the truly  _ worst _ movies that came out from John. Fuck, I miss John. What do you think John’s doing?”

“I haven’t thought about John in a while,” Rose said like she was just realizing it. “Hope he’s okay.”

“John’s such a fucking dork,” Dave said distractedly. “Bet he’s, like, just finished re-watching Con Air for the eighty-thousandth goddamn time. Now he’s just sitting around in that dumb blue windsock wonderin’ what we’re doing, or something gay like that. Like a dork. Like a big… friendship dork.”

“I’m sure he misses you, Dave,” Rose said, more sentimental and less teasing than it was probably intended.

“Yeah,” Dave responded automatically. He finished his drink.

  
  


>Karkat: Remember that you’re different.

  
  
  


“There are many things that I find quite confusing about Rose, but there are times when the cultural dissonance is actually quite charming. They simply lack certain preconceived notions and biases.”

“Really?” Karkat replied somewhat bitterly. “Strider seems to have all fucking  _ kinds _ of bizarre ideas in his head. That could just be him, though.”

Kanaya made a face. “I cannot speak for him, but Rose has been quite… open minded? I’m not sure if that’s the correct word.”

“Ugh, Kanaya, I don’t need to know about that.”

“That is not what I was referring to,” Kanaya corrected sharply, her glow brightening the slightest bit. “I suppose it’s mostly small things. For a time she was fondly reminiscing about her solar system’s sun and the warmth and light that would radiate from it. I responded by describing the comfort I felt when I would take daytime walks around my hive. We had been speaking for some time before I realized that I was the only troll who could relate to Rose’s experience. Something that made me different from my peers made me more similar to her.”

“What is it with you people and sunlight?” Karkat crossed his arms. 

“But that nuance, the uniqueness of my position, that was part of the experience. Even after I explained it to Rose, I didn’t feel like she truly  _ understood _ . Do you know what I mean?”

Karkat held eye contact with Kanaya for a moment before looking away, toward the dark, faint lines where the walls blended into the inky sky. Of course Karkat understood. Dave didn’t understand the first thing about his life back on Alternia. He might have discussed, in broad strokes, his life, his hive, his lusus, the looming reality of an oppressive blood caste system--but it wasn’t as though he’d dwelled on the particulars. The atmosphere of fear, the dawning horror as he grew up and learned that there was simply no place for him in the society he was so fiercely proud to be part of. Those things had been simple facts of his life before everything had completely hit the air blender, and now those things simply didn’t matter anymore. 

Except on some level, they mattered. Karkat knew Kanaya understood that. In a way, that was why he wasn’t in a hurry to discuss it. The whole thing made him feel self-conscious and put on the spot.

“I don’t really know what you expect. She’s not from Alternia, she’s not going to understand every little thing. Hell, I’m fucking relieved Dave doesn’t constantly pester me for every little detail about my life. Who wants to relive that shit now? That aquatic conveyance has sailed, been bombarded by fucking meteors, and summarily sank to the bottom of the fucking ocean.”

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it, if a bit callous.”

“Sorry if I’m not in a hurry to get sentimental about every little thing.”

“Pardon me if I happen to be feeling the loss somewhat,” Kanaya responded dryly. “Or is there something wrong with a moment of nostalgia for our home planet?”

Karkat threw his hands up and gave Kanaya a look that he hoped was more defensive than helpless. “What do you want from me? I’m not a jadeblood or a rainbow drinker, so I’m not in your ludicrous little sun lovers club. In fact, maybe you don’t know this about me, but I tried to go outside as little as fucking possible. My favorite parts of living on Alternia were films and novels, and I was smart enough to bring some of them with me.” Karkat sighed, glancing sideways at Kanaya. “Sorry, but I don’t know if I can scrape up enough sentimentality to go full-blown flashback sequence right now.” 

Kanaya looked at him that way that Karkat hated to be looked at. It was the bad kind of pity, the unhelpful arm’s-length kind that didn’t serve any kind of purpose. It was a look that reminded Karkat that Kanaya  _ knew _ about him, just like everyone knew about him now. He knew that nobody he knew cared what color his blood was. They hadn’t cared back on Alternia, and they especially didn’t care now that the imperial drones and the empress they served were no more. But that didn’t mean he liked to be reminded. It wasn’t like he was still hung up on it--why would he be? The past was in the fucking past, and he was troll enough to leave whatever feelings he had on the subject on a storage plateau and ignoring them for a while longer.

“Fair enough,” Kanaya finally conceded, “I suppose I was simply in a mood.”

Karkat shrugged stiffly. “I did find you staring into space by yourself, so I guess I should have guessed what I was in for.” 

  
  
  


>Dave: Endure obnoxious questions from your nosey sister.

  
  


“So I gotta ask,” Rose said, and it all sounded like one word. “You and Karkat. What’s going on there?”

“ _ Rose _ that’s none of your fucking business,” Dave groaned. Then, on second thought, “And  _ so _ not like that.”

Somewhere along the line, they’d both ended up sitting on the floor, presumably so that Rose could refill Dave’s mug without having to lean over too far. Dave was sitting cross-legged, hunched over on his elbows and, he was pretty sure, leaning a little to his left. Rose was fully leaning back against the front of the armchair, smiling like there wasn’t a care in the fucking world.

“Not like what? Don’t be so--” She paused to think. “Presom… presumptious.”

“I didn’t presume shit, you’re the inquirin’ into my  _ personal _ fucking business.”

“Karkat already  _ told _ me. Asked me for--for  _ advice _ . On how to ask you to be his--wait.” She stopped herself, her eyes wide like she’d just blurted a secret. “He did ask you, right?”

“Shit, I forgot he already told you. You know what, nope.” Dave pointed drunkenly in Rose’s direction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t  _ wanna  _ know what you’re talkin’ about, and third…” Dave pinched his brows together, trying to catch his train of thought. “...and keep your therapy tentacles away from my fucking quadrants.”

Rose was shaking his head no. “Thass not what this is, that’s not what this is. Nobody’s putting tentacles anywhere. Since when d’you have  _ quadrants? _ ”

Fuck Vantas and his stupid troll words penetrating Dave’s vocabulary. This was what Dave fucking got for trying to be all open-minded and multicultural. To Rose, he asserted, “I  _ don’t _ ! Shut up! I don’t have to talk to you about this! And it’s not a fucking  _ gay _ thing, so don’t even fucking  _ start _ .”

Rose was grinning at him, an amused, unconcerned grin. “I didn’t say anything about that. It’s just interesting to see you embracing the trollmance, dear brother.”

“I’m not embracin’ jack shit. No embracing going down here. Not doing any tender arm-touches or bro hugs here. Strider City is an embrace-free haven. Nothin’ but stoic, dudely, heterosexual vibes up in here.”

“But I thought  _ all _ quadrants were romantic?”

Dave could feel his face flushing and the world spinning a little, and the changes to his perception of reality were just a little louder than his distant mortification at Rose’s third degree. “Shut up, Rose.”

Dave could see the gears turning in Rose’s head behind her liquor-flushed complexion. She was positively beaming.

“Perhaps you don’t have to like boys to be pale with them?”

“Shut  _ up _ , Rose.”

Everything was fucking  _ spinning _ and the answers to Rose’s questions were so  _ obvious _ and there was something tense and squirming and nearly painful lodged in Dave’s chest. He fought the urge to let his hands go to his sternum, to let them try to dig out the interloper weighing down his lungs.

“It’s an interesting question! Don’t you think it’s  _ interesting _ ?”

“No, I fucking  _ don’t _ ,” Dave found himself barking. “Cut it the fuck out or I’m cuttin’ our cool sibling bonding time short and goin’ back to my fucking block.” Dave’s tone surprised him, hard and disapproving, and by the look on Rose’s face it surprised her, too. He sank back into the couch and looked away, and an awkward lull settled in for a long moment.

“Interesting you call it a  _ block _ ,” Rose went on, and Dave just groaned.

  
  
  


>Karkat: Gossip with your friend about relationship stuff. 

  
  
  


“So may I take your blatant meddling with Dave as an indication that your intentions were well-received? Or is that prying too much?”

“Shut up. And yes. And shut up.” Karkat was glaring off to the side with that strange bitter expression he wore to hide anxiety or happiness. “We’re trying to keep it kinda private, you know?”

“I had observed that you seemed in better spirits, but I didn’t want to make any assumptions.” Kanaya returned with a smile. “I can empathize with wanting to keep outside influences at arms’ length.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Karkat mumbled, watching the empty sky. “Does that mean I shouldn’t ask about you and Rose?”

Kanaya put a hand over her mouth as she stifled a laugh. “I was under the impression that you had a problem with ‘interspecies make-outs.’ Not that such is strictly the case here,” she hurried to clarify.

“Oh please,” Karkat said with a cringe. “You can’t take anything I said back then seriously. Do you remember how tightly fucking wound I was all the time? Honest-to-god, Kanaya, I can barely fucking remember half the shit I was constantly rage-screaming about, and judging by the other half, I do not fucking want to.”

“I try to take the word of our esteemed leader seriously,” Kanaya teased.

“Haha that’s fucking hilarious!” Karkat barked with self-deprecating derision. “I did my fucking best to lead those chucklefucks, and we all saw exactly how  _ that _ fucking turned out.”

Beside him, Kanaya fidgeted a little, refolding her hands. “I didn’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories.”

Karkat shrugged like he didn’t have any fucks to give about that. For the moment, that was true. He had other things, other people, to give fucks about. For the moment, just for now, that was enough to hold off the worst of what haunted him. “That’s just what happens when you try to reminisce anywhere on this fucking meteor. I’m getting kind of used to it.”

Moments passed, uncharacteristically quiet for Karkat, and he spoke again, “So you and Rose? That seems like it’s getting serious.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said unconvincingly. “I admit I enjoy her company, but I am hesitant to say more than that about a--a delicate situation.”

“What kind of situation?”

“Well,” Kanaya began uncertainly. “I believe we have a rather significant culture gap between us.”

“No… really?” Karkat added unhelpfully.

“We talk about our disparate experiences and lost homes sometimes, and at first I was excited to share the legacy of our people. Then, I came to find that it was difficult to talk about it properly. I can know something so intimately, and then struggle to express it. It’s far easier to just know something than it is to make someone else know it.”

“I think I know what you mean. Explaining quadrants to Strider is the most frustrating thing I have to do twice a week.”

Kanaya laughed softly. “If you’re the one explaining, then I imagine he must understand more than he lets on.”

Karkat honestly hadn’t considered that. Before he could think about it it too much, Kanaya was talking again.

“Recently, I find myself concerned that my lack of context is making it difficult for me to get close to her. I can tell that there is something I’m not quite understanding about her behavior, and I wish that there were something I could do to bridge the gap,” Kanaya said vaguely, her expression a little pinched.

That was something Karkat could understand. It hadn’t exactly been easy getting Dave to understand what moirallegiance was or why he should want it with Karkat. And really, he wasn’t sure Dave did understand those things. He wasn’t sure if Dave was just going along with it because Karkat had pushed him into it, and if he had, was that  _ okay _ ? Could they make that work? Karkat could feel anxiety building up over it, but he tried to shove it aside. Kanaya was probably right, in the end. At this point, with all the time Karkat had put into explaining things to Dave, Dave probably understood troll relationships better than Karkat understood human ones. 

“That might just be the inevitable hoof beast shitheap we have to wade through because we made the horrible mistake of trying to get humans in our quadrants,” Karkat ended up saying. 

Kanaya chuckled. “There may be some truth to that. I should hope, given your quadrant, that you’ve had some luck communicating with ‘the Dave human?’”

Karkat rolled his eyes at the obvious dig at him. The way he’d once talked about Dave, John, and the others now felt about equally embarrassing as anything he’d said in the past. He’d been so constantly on edge, so incredibly bitter, and--if he was being honest--so sorely lacking in a caliginous outlet. Something about everything that had happened since had rearranged his priorities somewhat, and he certainly hadn’t felt as bitter these past few weeks. Just spending time with Dave, doing their normal thing, knowing Dave was okay--not hiding in his block, not freaking out, just  _ okay _ -was just incredibly soothing, for the time being. Whether Dave entirely understood that or not was a question that Karkat was still on the fence about actually approaching. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Kanaya seemed to be thinking about how to respond, glowing low and steady like a moon through tinted glass.

“I’m not sure. Maybe it isn’t my place to say,” Kanaya said carefully. “But, given that you are my friend, I wonder if it is, in fact, my place to say.”

“Say what?”

Kanaya spread her hands vaguely, looking off at the inky sky. “I wouldn’t want to give you any misgivings needlessly about your new relationship. I have not had much cause to spend time with Dave. I have mostly heard about him from Rose, whom he has been neglecting for some time. It seems inevitable that I might pick up a bias.”

“Oh, so you mean he’s an asshole, got it,” Karkat responded with bitter humor. “I’m fully aware of that, you don’t have to dance around the issue.”

“It is a little entertaining how consistently you two insult one another. But what I was trying to say, if I may be frank, is that Rose’s assessment of Dave’s character leaves me concerned as to how well suited he may be for the responsibilities of moirallegiance.”

Karkat shot Kanaya an offended look, mostly by inertia. He couldn’t honestly deny that he’d had the same concern. “Seriously, Kanaya? What the fuck more do you want me to do?” He’d meant it to sound exasperated and rhetorical, not like an actual question. He hated how fucking whiny he sounded, goddamn. “I explained it very fucking thoroughly and effectively, and then I asked him if he wanted to be moirails, and he said fucking yes. I mean, fuck. Didn’t you just say he probably understands more than I think, since I’m the one fucking teaching him? What happened to that nice, reassuring fucking moment we had life five minutes ago?”

“That’s true,” Kanaya assured him. “Perhaps I’m simply projecting. Often, even when Rose says she understands, I still find myself uncertain.” 

Karkat slumped onto his elbows, exhaling. “Is that what this is all about? Fuck, you had me worried.”

Kanaya shook her head patiently. “No, that’s not what I meant. I simply don’t wish to see you in another… less than healthy situation.”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. Of course. Of fucking  _ course _ he couldn’t talk about moirallegiance in any context without the past getting thrown in his face. Anger welled up inside him, hot, humiliating, familiar. Not at Kanaya, exactly, but at himself, his past self, his own fucking choices that had led him to this moment in time.

Karkat sat up. “I should have fucking known this would end up being about fucking Gamzee. This is a completely different situation. Starting with, oh I don’t know, his  _ complete lack _ of tendency to turn our friends into fucking ghosts!” Karkat found himself gesticulating as he spoke, hating himself a little for how much feeling there still was attached to that name. 

“Karkat, please. I have no desire to discuss Gamzee, either.” Kanaya’s lips were pursed, her hands clasped firmly where they were folded in her lap. “I am trying, as delicately as possibly, to check in as to whether or not your chosen moirail truly understands his responsibility to you.”

“I can handle my own fucking quadrants,” Karkat replied automatically. The truth was, maybe Kanaya had a point, but it wasn’t a point Karkat was ready to hear. He exhaled sharply, one hand flicking at the wrist in an exasperated gesture. “I don’t know! Things have just been fucking good, Kanaya. I’m serious. Things have just been  _ fine _ . I’m so fucking at ease, I’m actually fucking  _ sleeping _ . For once, I have a quadrant full, and nothing is fucking wrong. Seriously, just let me fucking have this. For once, maybe, this one time, I can just fucking have something good without it being this huge humiliating shitshow?” God, he sounded pathetic.

Kanaya was silent for a moment. Karkat could imagine the gentle look in her eye.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my concerns. Perhaps what I meant to say was that I have no doubt that your situation has its own challenges, but I am happy for you nonetheless.”

Ugh. She was always so diplomatic and reasonable. It made Karkat defensively angry at how clearly his personality defects showed up in contrast, but it didn’t last. For some reason, it was always hard to be angry at Kanaya.

“I’m actually pretty fucking happy for me, too, so thanks. And uh, good luck with yours.”

Kanaya’s expression took on a quality Karkat wasn’t quite sure how to read, but she seemed to be smiling.

  
  


>Dave: Try not to lose your shit. 

  
  
  


It had gotten quiet. The conversation had hit a natural lull that had turned into a thoughtful, blurry silence. Rose was staring off into her mug as if it was slowly telling her some kind of critical information. Dave was trying not to watch Rose or think about how strange she looked, face flushed with inebriation and hair limp. 

It seemed to be the point when they’d be wrapping up, excusing themselves to separate parts of the meteor, and falling asleep to greet their morning hangovers. However, before Dave could decide to initiate the procedure for ending a long conversation, Rose spoke up. 

“Were you acshually serious about the pigeon?” She was looking at him as though trying to make out the image of a burning school bus in the distance. “That sh-seems kinda  _ serious _ .”

  
  
  


>Karkat: Try not to lose your shit.

  
  
  


The sounds coming from the common block signalled to Karkat that something had gone wrong, long before he and Kanaya finally made it there. There were voices, loud and thick, definitely Rose and Dave--but something was wrong. 

“Least  _ my _ bro taught me a  _ real weapon _ ,” Dave was  _ shouting _ , actually fucking shouting when Karkat rounded the corner. 

“Tha’s completely nuts! A  _ lunatic _ ! Tha’s who does that!”

For a moment, Karkat just took the scene in. Dave and Rose were on their feet, but by the look of them, only just barely. Their stances were off-balance, their limbs looked shaky. But they had fucking  _ weapons _ out. Rose had her weird, spooky needles and Dave was brandishing half a broken sword like he was using it to make some kind of incredibly justified point. And what was that  _ smell? _

“Fuck you! Y’r mom did  _ shit _ to--” 

“ _ Dave! _ ” Karkat cut Dave off mid-sentence. Dave’s voice sounded so  _ weird _ , so bitter and sloppy. What the fuck had  _ happened _ here?

Both humans froze, weapons up and stances hopelessly wonky, and looked toward the doorway at Karkat. Next to him, Kanaya’s mouth was pressed into a patient-yet-angry line. Her eyes were brimming with disappointment. “Rose,” she said, softer. 

Karkat was already barging in. “Dave, what the  _ fuck _ are you doing? Put that thing away  _ right now _ .”

“She fuckin’ started it!” Dave pointed at Rose with his free hand. 

“Oh yeah? Then in that case I guess you can just keep on being a fucking dumbass. Oh wait! That’s  _ fucking stupid _ .” Karkat reached a hand out and put it over Dave’s on the grip of his sword. “Put it.  _ Away _ . For fuck’s sake, I thought you humans weren’t supposed to randomly turn violent at each other. What the  _ fuck _ happened? And did you not fucking hear me? I said  _ put it away. _ ”

“Not the boss of me,” Dave retorted petulantly, but the half-sword returned to his strife specibus all the same. Karkat adjusted his grip to hold on more firmly to Dave’s wrist and he heard Dave fucking snicker like an idiot.

Karkat scowled. “Is this some kind of hilarious prank I’m somehow missing the fucking punchline to? Because not one bit of this is fucking funny to me. Come on, let’s get you to your block.”

“I don’t  _ wanna _ go to my block! I wanna teach Rose a  _ fuckin’ lesson _ .”

But Rose wasn’t paying attention, her head bowed a little in front of Kanaya, who seemed to be giving her a stern but quiet talking-to. 

“It’ll have to wait, she’s busy. Come on, you idiot, let’s get you out of here.”

“Quit holdin’ my hand,” Dave protested, but when Karkat pulled, he stumbled after him out of the room. 

Getting Dave to walk in a straight line down the hall proved to be impossible, but with a guiding hand on Dave’s wrist, they managed a sort of controlled zig zag. Dave’s steps dragged on the cold concrete floor. The nauseating smell that had filled the common block was now radiating out from Dave’s mouth, which was altogether too close to Karkat’s sniffnodes. Karkat tried to ignore the stimulus, tried to sort out the situation for himself. 

Obviously, Dave was in no condition to take care of himself. By the look of it, Rose had been in a similar state. Somehow, in their altered states, the idea of drawing weapons had looked like a fucking great one. And now, there Karkat was, dragging Dave from what was almost a fucking serious incident. And to where? Well. Dave’s block seemed like the obvious choice. 

“I was kiddin’, before,” Dave said out of the blue on the walk to the transportalizer hub. 

“Oh yeah?” Karkat asked.

“You can  _ totes _ hold my hand if you want,” Dave said like it was his dirtiest, most exciting secret. “I juss didn’ want Rose to think we’re  _ gay _ .”

“That’s, uh, great, Dave. Are you doing okay?”

“‘M great! Lovin’ the meteorma-- mete--moon. Moonshine.” Dave paused. “I drank a  _ lot _ .”

“Is that bad?” Karkat asked, suddenly anxious. He was assuming that whatever Dave had done to himself wasn’t anything a god tier couldn’t recover from, but Dave was stumbling and slurring all over the fucking place. “You look like you’re going to fall the fuck over.”

“Might! Maybe.” Dave paused, stopped walking for a moment. “We hitting a dream bubble?”

“Not yet,” Karkat sighed, stopping with him.

“Then why’s it all spinning?”

Karkat looked at him. Was he a fucking idiot? What had he fucking  _ done _ to himself? Did he get into some bizarro human Faygo? “What? Nothing is spinning. What are you even talking about? What are you  _ doing _ ?”

Dave was, in fact, leaning up against Karkat’s side, which was slowing them both down. It was warm, and Dave seemed to need the support, but Dave smelled absolutely fucking attrocious. Well, he supposed being a good moirail wasn’t always supposed to be easy. Karkat released Dave’s wrist to wrap his arm under Dave’s arm and around his upper back, letting Dave lean on him.

“Can’t you motherfucking  _ fly _ ?”

“But you  _ hate _ that, Kark-les,” Dave whined. “Don’ wanna upset you. Y’got the shortest fuckin’ fuse.”

“Thanks for that delightful commentary on my winning personality,” Karkat growled.

“C’ _ mon _ . I can say that shit. ‘S totally pale to say that shit. Right? Jus’ like Mir and Tully.”

“ _ Oh my god _ do you need to fucking shit up. And do you think you can hold even a  _ little _ of your own weight?”

“But I dun wanna,” was Dave’s clever comeback, followed by a string of breathy drunken laughter.

Dave slumped heavily onto Karkat, rolling his head over onto Karkat’s shoulder, into the crook of his neck. He was so incredibly  _ warm _ . His breath, his stupid putrid breath, was making a damp spot on Karkat’s sweater. Soft, sweaty hair nudged up against Karkat’s cheek, and Karkat had to hold Dave up with both arms. God, he was such a pitiful fucking  _ mess _ . What if Karkat hadn’t been there to sort him out? What then? 

“Since when are you this clingy, Strider?”

“‘M not clingy, ‘m drunk. ‘S totally different set of rules.” 

“Fan-fucking-tastic, I love deciphering your bizarre alien social rules as they pertain to your disgusting-smelling soporifics.” Somehow, Karkat got Dave propped up enough to get them both walking again. The sooner he could dump this smelly mass of human onto a sleeping platform and get his breath a safe distance away, the better.

“Do I smell like booze? I  _ taste _ like booze.”

Karkat watched as Dave explored that fact by licking his thin, pink lips with a faltering coordination that suggested he was severely overthinking the logistics.

“You are extremely fucking lucky that I’m willing to endure you  _ or _ your stench right now, because anyone else on this meteor would drop you like a sack of tubers.”

“Wait. Wait, wait.” Judging by the look on his face, Dave seemed to be having some sort of complex thought. “Is this like a… a moyra-- mwalla--diamond-y thing?”

False alarm. No complex thoughts here, just rampant idiocy. And why did he have to keep  _ saying _ shit like that? He had been so fucking concerned about privacy, and here he was blabbing their quadrant up and down the fucking halls. Karkat could feel his face getting warm and, Jesus Christ, if anything good or holy still existed in any torn fragment of any dead universe, nobody would fucking see them like this between here and Dave’s block. 

“ _ Holy fuck, _ you stupid, pathetic, soporific-addled, panrotted, pink-skinned  _ mammal _ , are you even fucking capable of shutting up?”

Dave seemed to consider that for a minute. “Hey, why d’you have horns if y’all are bugs?”

Karkat sighed a long-suffering sigh and dragged Dave into the transportalizer.

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEXT SESSION: 20.0%

  
  


>==>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Wertiyurae for looking at this for me!!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who comments, bookmarks, leaves kudos, etc. Digging the validation.
> 
> Next chapter soon!


	12. >Karkat: Wait for your moirail to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came out long. Enjoy!

>==>

  
  
  


PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 20.0%

  
  


>Karkat: Wait for your moirail to wake up.

  
  


Sitting low in Dave’s rolling chair, feet kicked up on the edge of Dave’s sleeping platform, Karkat was grateful to himself for always being prepared. The change of clothes he kept in his sylladex had finally come in handy over the harrowing course of the day; taking a transportalizer to his room had proved severely irritating to the human’s digestion bladder. Karkat also had a water bottle ready for Dave when he woke up, and he’d already retrieved and eaten one of the bags of grub snacks in his sylladex. 

Now, with Dave passed out on the sleeping platform, Karkat had a paperback novel open in a vain attempt to get his mind off the situation. This one happened to be one of Kanaya’s rainbow drinker novels, and under better circumstances he would have begrudgingly admitted that it was more compelling than he’d given the genre credit for. As it stood, Karkat had been reading and rereading the same passage, helplessly unable to hold onto the thread. He knew Dave was going to be okay--he’d had plenty of time to ask Kanaya a series of frantic questions over Trollian--but Karkat was fucking worried. His gaze kept flitting away from the page, at Dave’s prone form, around Dave’s trash dungeon of a block.

The inside of Dave’s block wasn’t what Karkat would have considered pleasant or homey. It was full of hard, industrial edges, the block itself resembling the inside of one of the many cinderblocks that comprised the furniture. He didn’t understand why anyone would intentionally alchemize cinderblocks when they could just alchemize the furniture itself. He didn’t understand a lot of Dave’s choices and idiosyncrasies. There was also no recuperacoon, which meant that Dave always slept on a flat sleeping platform with nothing but a cushioned nest of springs to support and protect him. It seemed like it shouldn’t be enough, couldn’t possibly be enough for anywhere near decent sleep. Fucking humans.

On the platform, wrapped up in the garish scarlet cape he had drunkenly refused to relinquish and the doubtlessly ironic quadrant-print sheets, Dave lay in a graceless, vulnerable sprawl. The stench coming out of the distressingly red interior of his open mouth, combined with the one from his sweat-soaked shirt, was nauseatingly powerful from Karkat’s seat a couple of feet away. Dave’s head was back, not even on a pillow, and he was rasping this incredibly loud, off-putting, nasally snore. Karkat had been trying to tune it out since it had started. Why was every sound that humans made so  _ wet? _

Karkat lowered his book and his feet, leaning in toward the bed. Dave screwed up his face and tossed his head and the snoring hit a disgusting crescendo that sounded like it must have been fucking painful. Karkat reached out a hand automatically, cupping Dave’s face. He shooshed at Dave softly, running his hand over Dave’s warm, unnaturally soft human face skin. It took a moment, but the pale, elastic skin of Dave’s face relaxed and he rolled over so he was facing Karkat, legs tangling themselves further in the sheets. His breathing was quiet again, gentle and steady. Still helplessly asleep. 

Karkat felt a nervous pressure in his thorax, pins and needles running up his posture poles. He pulled his hand back, settling back in the desk chair. Karkat was just staring wide-eyed at the motherfucking sleeping alien, still trying to get used to it. It was uncomfortable, being around someone this completely vulnerable, but not at all in a bad way. If it weren’t for the particulars of the situation, the trust Dave was putting in Karkat might feel so incredibly sweet. And the particulars of the situation were that this was all Karkat’s fucking fault.

Fucking obviously.

The silence stretched on, unbroken except for the hum of air in the vents and the occasional creaking of the desk chair. Karkat picked the book back up, not even slightly intending to actually read it. His anxieties had been churning away inside him for hours, thoughts colliding at all the worst angles with the worst outcomes. For the moment he’d circled back around to stressing about his pale quadrant. Kanaya just fucking had to be right, didn’t she? Dave didn’t actually understand pale romance. Hell, Karkat didn’t even dare call it romance around him. The guy had such a complex around his human gender quadrants that it had completely contaminated his capacity for pale feelings. 

Karkat had just wanted to be a good moirail, to not let Dave avoid his friends and collapse in on himself like a dying star. To show that he could be a good pale partner, that he  _ wanted _ to be that for Dave. But he’d been too pushy. Obviously. Leave it to Karkat fucking Vantas to overplay his hand and horn in on an alien social arrangement that he, in all actual fact, did not fucking understand. For an alien who, despite all the effort on Karkat’s part, almost certainly did not understand Karkat’s pale feelings nor his pale advances. 

  
  


Karkat watched Dave’s face for a moment miserably. Dave’s eyes were shut but uncovered, his eyelashes just as lusus-white as the hair on his head. Given what a restless sleeper he’d been--he was rolling around every which way and had even groggily gotten up twice for water and visits to the load gaper--Karkat was glad he’d managed to get Dave’s shades off of him. There was no way they would have survived every odd angle at which Dave’s head hit the sleeping platform. Still, he felt guilty looking at Dave’s face without them. He felt guilty to be there at all, even if his instincts screamed at him to stay. To take care of Dave. To keep watch while he sweated out this poison, to make sure nobody could take advantage of his weakened state, to make sure nothing worse could happen. 

As he tried to bring his attention back to his book, Karkat felt so incredibly, completely fucking pathetic. 

  
  
  


>Dave: Navigate your first hangover.

  
  
  


Dave was drifting in and out for a long time, and when he finally woke up for real he was vaguely aware that he hadn’t been actually unconscious for the healthy eight-hour minimum. He felt a dazed sort of confusion that tripped an internal alarm, nudging at him that something was off. Sluggishly, his mind tried to parse out what it was. He was on his side. The mattress beneath him was familiar, though the cape clumping uncomfortably against his side and stomach was a little unexpected (it’s not like he normally slept in it). In any case, he was definitely in his block. What the fuck had happened, exactly? 

He closed his mouth, which he realized had been hanging open, only to discover that it was at once slimy and sandpaper-dry, and it tasted fucking awful. Like someone had used his mouth to make some sort of primitive fermented hooch out of his stomach acid. The muscles in his jaw and neck were  _ stiff _ . Drawing his limbs up into his torso confirmed that his whole body was host to this dull, gnawing ache that was similar but not quite the same as the post-training soreness that he used to suffer constantly before the game. What the fuck had  _ happened _ exactly? How had he even gotten here?

Except, in actual fact, Dave remembered. It was foggy, but as his brain got used to the agonizing idea of not immediately drifting back to sleep, flashes from the previous night (day?) were hitting him like a catapulted barrage of smuppets. In hindsight, what in  _ god’s _ name had possessed him to drink with Rose? How the fuck had it not been obvious from the get-go how destined that was to go down the tubes? She’d practically been drunk when they started, for fuck’s sake. And,  _ shit _ , the thought was occurring in Dave’s throbbing head of how much  _ worse _ it had all almost gone. Thank god Karkat had shown up and  _ oh fuck _ Karkat had shown up. 

Dave heard himself groan as he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and let the clenched muscles of his legs and his neck stretch out. His body creaked and complained at him, barely a distraction from the jolt of the realization. He definitely felt fucking awake now. Why had Karkat had to see that? This was the second fucking time he’d flipped out, pulled a sword, and Karkat had to drag him back to his block to sleep it off. This was becoming a  _ thing _ and holy  _ fuck,  _ what in the fuck was  _ wrong _ with him? 

“Are you actually awake this time?”

If any muscle in his body hadn’t been critically dehydrated, Dave would have jumped to his feet in surprise. He did flinch in a decidedly uncool way, bracing against the bed like some kind of horizontal rock climber. Shame burned in his chest, and the whole combination of unpleasant sensations was making his stomach turn over and over. He hadn’t considered that Karkat would still  _ be _ here. How fucked up was he that he hadn’t fucking  _ noticed?  _ Something visceral and hollow began to take hold in his gut, the automatic anticipation of consequences. He’d let his  _ guard down _ , how could he  _ do that _ , and didn’t he  _ know fucking better than to let his guard down?  _

“Dave?” Karkat sounded cautious and firm, like he was talking to a feral animal. “Answer me.”

Dave swallowed, milking the waning plausible deniability that he might still be asleep. Flashes from the previous night ran through his mind on autopilot, skimming over some truly impressive feats of stupidity involving one Rose Lalonde in search of his recent memories of Karkat. Namely the ones where Dave had made a drunken ass of himself and gotten so up in Karkat’s business personal-spaceways that it was practically a hostile takeover. He felt his body still, a sharp and cold shame spilling through his stomach and out into his limbs.

_ Fuck _ . 

Uncomfortably aware of Karkat’s presence, Dave tried to take as inconspicuous a deep breath as he could. He was pretty sure there was something in the Bro Code about not talking about how clingy your bro gets when he’s all kinds of smashed because his sister’s practically had an IV drip of Everclear in him all night. In fact, he was pretty sure getting wasted and doing stupid shit that everyone silently agrees to forget about the next morning was one of the most ancient and sacred bro rituals back on his home planet. Too bad he hadn’t taken more of an interest in Karkat’s education in Earth stuff. Now his ignorant alien shout hole was going to lambast Dave for every cringey fucking moment of what had amounted to a spontaneous, hands-on After School Special about the evils of underage drinking, minus the lesson about drunk driving that usually followed. Talk about cultural exchange. 

For just a second, Dave found himself wondering if there was an After Schoolfeed Special for trolls. The familiar calm of idly wondering about something stupid grounded him enough to breathe and find enough cool to meet what was, surely, going to one of the top-five least cool moments of his life. 

“Fuck,” Dave found his voice raspier than he would’ve expected. He had to swallow to avoid a cough. “Karkat? The fuck you doing here?”

“Just reconsidering all my fucking life choices up till this moment,” Karkat grumbled to himself, like he expected Dave to pass out again.

Dave lifted his head just enough to squint his eyes open and scan the room, finding Karkat sitting forward in his desk chair, rolled up right next to the bed. Dave ignored a little  _ “oh shit you’re actually awake” _ from Karkat as his mind sluggishly processed the situation. There was a paperback novel on the topmost boards of the cinderblock bedside table. That made sense. Karkat could get lost in those for hours, even with a sweaty drunken Dave marinating beside him, apparently. It was a little dimmer than what Dave would call reading light, but he supposed those troll eyes had to be good for something. 

Sitting beside the book was something of much more interest.

Karkat caught him eyeing the water bottle and handed it to Dave. He took it automatically, sitting up enough to uncap it. His body felt a little lighter when it came to matters of survival. “Don’t fucking chug that this time,” Karkat warned darkly. “Apparently your incredibly inefficient biology will reject it right back out your inebriation gullet otherwise.” 

Dave’s parched tongue and throat were so dry that it took multiple swallows to relieve himself of the desire to cough. The urge to down half the bottle was overwhelming, but he did his best to heed the advice. The tone of Karkat’s voice said it was not, by any means, a theoretical concern, and Dave had shameful memories to corroborate. Dave’s eyes were still crusty, and he couldn’t really see the expression on Karkat’s face. From the sound of his voice, though, Dave was guessing both angry and disappointed. 

“Holy fuck,” Dave said as he handed back the water. “No joke, man, you just saved my fucking life.”

“Close fucking call. With that egregious shitshow you put on, that was nearly fucking Just,” Karkat snarked, voice at a friendly grumble. “How are you feeling, nookmunch?”

“With a bedside manner like that, I’ll be up and at ‘em in fucking no time,” Dave managed, pleased with himself for how normal he sounded despite the sinking feeling in his gut.

Okay. Ignoring the undeniable urge to curl up into a tight ball until the entire fucking world fucked off, this was going better than expected so far. The next step was to maneuver into a more dignified, seated position. This was impossible without cringing, but he got there. It would have helped if Karkat wasn’t watching him like that, like he had an extra head and it was mocking him, the fucking weirdo. He brought his hands up to rub his eyes and it was a testament to how distracting the pain in his head and shoulders was that it took him a second to figure out what was missing. 

Abruptly, he dropped his hands and set to scanning the immediate vicinity of the bed and nightstand, but Karkat was already retrieving Dave’s shades from his sylladex and handing them over. Dave felt relief melt the tension in his chest before he realized there was tension. 

“You wanted them somewhere safe,” Karkat was saying, looking away from Dave self-consciously. “Wasn’t sure they’d be entirely safe anywhere else in this industrial dump site you call a respiteblock.” 

“Is that an upgrade from ‘trash dungeon?’” Dave managed to reply, but his heart wasn’t in it. It had occurred to him that someone else having his shades--his trademark, his gift from his regrettably-absent number-one guy in the whole wide recently-ended world--in their sylladex, completely out of his reach, should have pinged higher on the threat scale. Instead, the casual familiarity of the moment kept growing gradually as a source of slow, spreading apprehension.

Dave pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose in a practiced motion, smooth despite how dizzy he felt. He combed his fingers through his hair self-consciously. Karkat was sitting with his hands clenched in his lap, eyebrows gruff and gaze trained on a pencil holder. His eyes were sort of sunken, as usual, and his hair was a mess. He looked weirdly tense, not to mention awkward. Right. Of course. This was an awkward situation. 

“Dude, you don’t have to avert your gaze, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” 

He did his best to sound nonchalant about it, as if it would cover for the clumsy moment of bare-faced sweaty bumbling in front of Karkat. It was true that Karkat had seen his eyes before, once or twice. He didn’t have to play up the mystique of the Strider eye reveal for him at this point. But Dave wore his shades even when nobody was around. He always had; he never even questioned it. They brought with them a soothing aura of instant cool, gave him a much-needed upper hand in the face of the unfaceable, whether that was the light of the sun or the uncomfortable presence of his troll pal during his most fucked up and vulnerable times.

Seriously, how was that even a thing that kept on fucking happening?

Karkat rolled his eyes in a familiar gesture of exasperation, straightening, and Dave realized what was coming a split second too late. “Excuse me for trying to respect whatever pathological personal deficit prompts you to wear sunglasses indoors like an asshole all the fucking time!”

_ Holy fucking Jesus shit _ nothing could have prepared him for the grating sound of Karkat’s full speaking volume against his headache. It was like unexpectedly running full-tilt into a door. His hands started to jerk up reflexively, as if they could protect him. He fought the urge to double over in pain in an effort to protect what remained of his dignity, but it got an involuntary  _ “Fuck, _ ” out of him. 

“Shit. Are you okay?”

_ Fuck  _ was he talking straight into Dave’s ear or something? Had Karkat seriously always been this fucking loud? How had Dave just gotten fucking used to being friends with a fucking human megaphone? Or, he supposed, a troll one. Which would have some sort of dumb troll name. A noise enlarger or a rant amplifier, something like that.

“Yeah, the siren sound of your grating troll yell is doing fucking wonders for my teen hangover. What would I fucking do without you,” Dave heard himself deadpan, eyes still screwed shut as he waited for what felt like a million ball bearings made of tiny knives to still inside the hollow drum of his skull.

“Seriously? I was asking if you were okay, chute licker,” Karkat protested, affronted but blessedly quieter. “I wasn’t fucking  _ yelling. _ ” 

Dave blinked his eyes open to Karkat watching him anxiously. Now that Dave was looking at him, he could see the heavy bags under Karkat’s eyes, the agitation plucking at his brow and lip. 

“Yeah, you and I both know how bullshit that is. I know you’ve got an indoor voice in there somewhere, Karkles. If you want to lecture me on the evils of underage drinking, you’re gonna have to do it at a normal person’s speaking volume.” Dave let himself smirk, releasing a flurry of nervous tension while still aiming for normalcy. As if he could still weasel his way out of having to address any part of this situation.

“By all fucking means, go right ahead and be a nookbiting little shit to the guy who’s been waiting by your fucking bedside while you sweat out that thinkpan-sabotaging garbage,” Karkat shot back at him, pinning him with eyes that had seen some shit and had clearly earned the right to be pissed off. “After watching you purge the entire disgusting contents of your digestion bladder.  _ Twice _ !”

Oh fuck. Normalcy was  _ loud  _ and Karkat was  _ salty _ . Dave had to put his hands on his ears, cringing and doubling over, much to his own chagrin. It was just too much. His head was already killing him and Karkat was jumping in to finish the job early. As if summoned from a deep and dark void, the memories of his sloppy drunken nightmare came into clearer view, none of them in the least bit cool.  _ Fuck _ . Dread spread through him, dizzying. Anxiety worked his heart, pumping blood to his headache and applying brutal pressure. 

“Shit. Dave?”

“ _ Seriously _ , man, just shut up for like. Two seconds.”

Dave was still cradling his head in his hands, sweating uncomfortably into the collar of his cape, and trying to muster enough willpower to pull himself together into a more respectable position. It was proving more difficult than he expected. The block seemed to be spinning. Was he still fucking drunk? No, he couldn’t have been. Could he?

For fuck’s sake, it was just a hangover. Nothing to fucking write home about. But there Dave was, doubled over like a goddamn baby. Not a good look for anyone, least of all a Strider. This wasn’t even the first time Karkat had seen him like this, either. No way he could forget that. Fuck. Not a good look at all. 

Systematically, Dave smoothed over his facial expression and stilled the errant fidgeting of his foot. If his body didn’t betray him, he could still deny remembering it, at least. Not give Karkat anymore ammo. He could still minimize the impact, somehow. 

“Dave?” he heard Karkat’s decidedly-indoor voice, quite a few more than two seconds later.

Dave was just pulling himself together to sit up, just gearing himself up to be cool as a cucumber as he thanked his bro for his time and sent him the fuck home to his own block, when heard Karkat lean forward in his chair. Then he flinched a little in belated surprise--almost half a second too late, a completely useless reflex--as he felt Karkat’s fingers brush against his hairline and temple. It was the lightest touch, just three fingers, their soft fingertips, cool and familiar against the tight band of pressure in his scalp. The words he’d planned died on his tongue. So much for minimizing the impact.

In a rush that warmed his cheeks with embarrassment, Dave realized why this was a familiar feeling. Wow. He had been pretty obnoxiously clingy last night, hadn’t he? Just all kinds of touchy-feely. Clingy AF. Like the least coolest possible kind of drunk. He could already see his future self, a zillion years in the future, retired and decrepit, still cringing to himself late at night for this particular drunken episode. Hopefully Karkat’s willful ignorance of anything human would work out in Dave’s favor. Maybe he wouldn’t “get” booze, and Dave could get him to believe it summoned demons or something. Karkat’s fingers stopped ghosting along his hairline and started very gently kneading along Dave’s scalp, and it was like his fairy fucking godmother had answered his prayers for relief from headache hell. 

“Kanaya mentioned headaches when Rose fucked herself up on human soporific, but I couldn’t tell if she meant Rose or herself. I should have taken her more seriously,” Karkat was muttering, quiet and gravelly. His hand was soothing against the tension and heat in Dave’s temple. The instinct hit Dave to lean into this magic hand that was syphoning away the throbbing pain from the area where it touched, and it hit hard enough to touch the dread, fearful and deep seated in him. 

He found himself remembering the last time he’d let Karkat touch him like this, all gentle and troll-pseudo-platonic. He’d told Karkat afterward that it had been okay, which it  _ had _ , goddamnit, Karkat had basically forced him to admit it. But this was different. He wasn’t panicking, his wits were about him, he didn’t  _ need _ this. It just… felt good? Or yeah, of fucking course it did, but he wasn’t a fucking cat. He didn’t need head scritches from his best troll bro. Shit, there was probably some sort of subtext here that he was missing, wasn’t there? Like… best-monorail-friend subtext?  _ Fuck _ this shit was confusing. Suddenly Dave was feeling incredibly squeamish. His nerves felt like they were openly mocking him, playground angry mob style. He needed to sit up. He needed to take control of the situation, somehow.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Dave asked as he started to slowly bring his head back up. He suppressed a pained expression, from the movement more than the withdrawal of one cool, smooth troll hand, he told himself.

Karkat looked at him like a deer in headlights, awkwardly settling back in the chair. He looked… not quite rejected, staring into Dave’s impassive shades. More like he’d gotten caught with his hand in a cookie jar for the first time and now he had to answer for his lack of stealth. For a moment, Dave felt almost naked, sitting in his sweat-damp pajamas and the nasty stench of his own breath. Or, not naked. He felt incredibly, dizzyingly present. 

The sheer knowledge that Karkat had been taking care of him--that that had happened, no take-backsies--had him trapped, sincerely and squirming on the inside, in this moment of stomach-tightening vulnerability. Karkat was  _ there _ , he had just been fucking touching Dave’s face like they were best palefriends for life, had fucking had Dave’s shades in his sylladex. And  _ yes _ , he was extremely aware that this was a monorail thing. He knew it from the anxious squirming in his belly, reacting to the moment as if he were already being mocked for it. And there they were, just sitting awkwardly in that knowledge like it was a communal motel hot tub. It made Dave’s heart pump anxiously, like there was some inevitable comeuppance on the horizon. 

Then Karkat’s grumpy mask was back. “You looked like you were in pain, and I thought I could-- Like I said, I’m fucking worried about you! Like pretty much fucking always! Wow, what a novel fucking concept!”

For Dave, it actually sort of was, but he didn’t want to dwell on that. Dwelling on that was freaking him the fuck out, and if that kept going in the direction it was going, Karkat was going to have an excuse to go full pale-bro on him. For the moment, Karkat had his arms crossed, looking away from him with that preemptively defensive scowl. Dave noticed that Karkat’s voice had actually been quiet enough to handle, this time. He felt a traitorous lingering warmth in his ears from the head rub. There was a lot about this situation he didn’t want to dwell on. 

“Why, Nurse Vantas, with an attitude like that I think you might wanna consider a career change. No way are they letting you read to the little cancer kids, that’s for sure.” 

“If you’re feeling better enough to be a shitmongering nookwipe, does that mean we can cut the shit and talk about the fucking bad decision circus that you fucking headlined yesterday?” 

Dave felt himself suck in an abrupt puff of air, held it until the tangle of nerves in his chest stopped writhing. There it was, there was the question he was trying to avoid, and a lot sooner than he was expecting.

“Jesus Christ, Kar. I just woke up. Let a guy breathe for ten fucking seconds.”

Karkat grumbled something like assent, but Dave was already shoving his cape up over his head and if Karkat said actual words, Dave didn’t hear. He tossed the sweaty mass of fabric over onto the mattress, letting his neck get some much-needed air. He kicked his leg out of the sheets still tangled around it, pushing the covers away. The pain running through his head and muscles was still there, but it was transitioning to the background of Dave’s awareness. It was a mind-over-matter trick that had become automatic years ago, so that he could defend himself even on his most sore post-strife mornings. 

Meanwhile, Karkat was putting one elbow up on the armrest of the chair to support his head, just watching him. He looked grumpy, but mostly he looked tired. In a way that was different from usual. Dave couldn’t place it. Karkat’s hair was always a mess, and he always had those tragic bags under his eyes. How could Dave even tell how tired he was? He always looked tired. 

_ Huh.  _ That was a weird thing to get used to about a guy. 

Trolls sleep in cocoons full of goo, Dave found himself remembering. He’d seen one in Karkat’s block, that one awkward time they’d had movie night in there. It was one of those things that really made his alien bro seem like an actual, honest-to-god alien. Half the time, if he kept his pointy mouth shut, if Dave ignored his horns and the slightly distorted proportions of his face, Karkat didn’t seem altogether that inhuman. But the fact that he didn’t sleep lying down, on a bed, with pillows and blankets and all that good comfy shit? That was difficult to fucking relate to.

More than that, it meant he probably hadn’t been snoozing in that desk chair while Dave had been out.

“Did you seriously just watch me sleep all night like a creep?” was what came out of Dave’s mouth as he ran with the thought. Karkat gave him a sharp look over it, but at least the silence was broken. “Is that some kind of pervy troll thing? Please don’t tell me trolls watch their bros sleep, that is all kinds of fucking weird.”

“Are you irreparably pan-damaged? I was not fucking watching you sleep, you globe fondling little shit. I brought a fucking  _ book _ .” Karkat held the book up as if it strengthened his point somehow, scowling with obvious embarrassment, and Dave ran his eyes politely over what seemed to be scantily-clad troll vampires on the cover.

“Yeah, but like, you could’ve just gone back to your block. Caught some z’s of your own in your troll pod.”

“ _ Recuperacoon _ ,” Karkat corrected testily. “It’s not my fucking fault that you humans insist on sleeping prone on a goddamn open cushioned platform with no kind of physical or psionic protection whatso-fucking-ever! You were in absolutely no fucking condition to take care of yourself, much less defend yourself against threats.”

“Threats?” Dave laughed, even as something in the pit of his stomach twisted in agreement. He  _ had _ been in no condition to take care of himself, to defend himself, to get startled awake by a shitty katana or a barrage of smuppets or--

He let the memory sink down into the depths of his most well-suppressed fears, felt his mind automatically force the thought away. He concentrated on Karkat’s offended expression. “Dude, seriously?” he was still saying, “I don’t need you on fucking guard duty. I’m fine.”

Karkat was practically snarling, his face turning dark and red. “Well, excuse fucking me for trying to do my fucking pale due diligence after  _ you _ decided to turn a simple fucking conversation with Rose into some kind of full-on spectacle of pan-addled insults and sloppy strife technique! Nobody fucking  _ told me ahead of time _ what the  _ fuck _ I’m supposed to do when my  _ incomprehensible fucking alien moirail _ decides to go completely  _ shithive maggots!” _

Dear fucking god, it was like getting punched between the eyes from the fucking inside. Not every word even actually registered, he was pretty sure, getting lost in the noise. Luckily, he managed to stay upright, hiding the impact of the pain perhaps too well.

“Ow,” Dave said pointedly, once he had his composure. “Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and make sure you get another copy of that memo I sent around about hangovers. First rule? No fucking yelling.”

Karkat grumbled something like an apology under his breath, gripping one of the arms of Dave’s desk chair so hard that there would definitely be claw marks on it later. The glare he was giving the bedside table could have crumbled concrete. Wow, testy. Could the guy even sit still with an emotion to save his life?

“And item number two,” Dave rubbed his eyes under his shades. “I wasn’t trying to give you any shit, dude. I just meant, maybe you did your bro-duty already, so you can like. Go take a goo bath and catch some z’s?”

“Dave.” Karkat said, grasping for patience.“I know you’re a fucking idiot and your addled pan is probably starved for resources because you ejected most of them back out through your bad decision gullet, but I actually do take this moirallegiance fucking seriously. I’m fucking  _ worried _ about you. I found you in the common block with some kind of shitty broken fucking  _ sword _ in your hand and I  _ still _ have no fucking idea what I was fucking looking at there. Some kind of human ‘family dynamic’ bullshit? The beginning of a beautiful caliginous romance?”--(“on, no dude,  _ gross _ ”)--“What the fuck even  _ was that? _ ”

The pain in Dave’s head was settling into a firm, consistent throb, the tension in his neck leaving him feeling brittle. He wouldn’t have wanted to admit it, but having his shades pressing gently against his temples was definitely not helping the situation. Not that they were going anywhere. Dave knew he should have been grateful for the concern, and yes, okay, they had the pale thing, but fuck if Karkat wasn’t kind of a high maintenance bro.

Not that it wasn’t a good question, honestly. So he said so.

“Good fucking question. Which we can maybe go over after I scrub the taste of a thousand asses out of my fucking mouth. Fuck, did I eat out a thousand assholes last night? You’d tell me if I got up close and personal with any sphincters, right? I mean, assuming you’d know.”

“I don’t know  _ anything! _ ” Karkat cut in all of a sudden, voice jarring and heavy with frustration and anxiety. “Setting aside your infuriating tendency to avoid actually fucking talking about your shit at any fucking cost, I am in fact completely the fuck in the dark. I had no fucking idea what was even going  _ on  _ until I got ahold of Kanaya on Trollian. She’s been taking care of Rose, in case you fucking care.”

“Oh--”

“I mean I’m not fucking  _ stupid _ , obviously I knew you’d fucking  _ taken _ something. Gamzee would get spaced out of his mind on slime pies and Faygo, but for fuck’s sake, he never got  _ violent _ on it! That was the entire fucking point!” Karkat paused, and for a moment he looked so sick Dave’s stomach lurched. “Fuck, is this going to be a  _ thing _ with you now? Tell me this was a one-time fucking thing, because I don’t think I can fucking handle it if this is going to be a fucking  _ thing _ with you.”

“Whoa, nope, no fucking way,” Dave replied a little too quickly, gut clenching at the sheer audacity of the idea of drinking ever again. Or maybe that was just his body’s response to the incredible amount of emotion Karkat was managing to have about this. It was sort of hard to watch, but he still felt fucking bad even though he wasn’t the one making him fucking talk about Gamzee with a hangover. “I don’t know what kind of weird alien drugs your ex used to do, but I can tell you one-hundred-percent that I’m not going down that road. I solemnly fucking swear, I am never touching a bottle of Rose’s homemade hooch ever the fuck again. Seriously, you can call DARE and tell them not to even show. The AA alumni or whatever can save themselves a carpool. I’m already scared fucking  _ straight _ .”

Karkat didn’t look entirely convinced--Dave realized belatedly that he wouldn’t have gotten the DARE reference, that he didn’t get  _ most _ of Dave’s references--and his grey face looked a little pale. “For once in your short, shitty life can you just cut the shit? At least Gamzee’s slime pies served some actual fucking useful purpose. They kept him fucking  _ calm.  _ Even the fucking Faygo was only so he could stay relaxed, because he actually, honestly fucking needed the help. What the  _ fuck _ was your excuse? Was this some fucking elaborate, self-sabotaging plan to get back at me for making you talk to Rose?”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, but if you’re just going to yell at me about the creepy clown guy, can we take some kind of rain check? My head is killing me and I need to piss like a fucking racehorse.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself? When Kanaya and I found you two, you were fucking  _ yelling _ about how you wanted to ‘teach Lalonde a lesson.’ Somehow I doubt you had any intention of  _ actually _ delivering any schoolfeeding on bladekind weaponry or their associated strife techniques, so I am left to assume that you were, in fact, seconds away from some hideously unnecessary and hilariously ineffective brawl.”

Dave couldn’t stop himself from physically cringing, but he told himself he was just reacting to Karkat’s volume. But honestly, it was hard to stay frosty in the face of this accurate and well-deserved takedown of his own drunken behavior. Briefly, he considered pretending not to remember the specifics--seriously, how much liquor did it take to forget shit the next morning? Because he’d been pretty sure he drank at least that much--but it occurred to him that that might only freak Karkat out more. He felt guilty that Karkat was freaking out at all, even if it was his default setting.

He did vaguely remember the hilt of a sword in his palm at some point, but the instinctual memory of danger that always accompanied strife situations was absent. It was definitely an imminent strife situation; Rose hadn’t pulled her needles out to knit him a fucking scarf. But in hindsight, there was no way either of them had been capable of any damage. Honestly, it was surprising to see Rose riled up enough to respond to a stupid challenge like that. That must have been pretty embarrassing for her. Suddenly, Dave remembered something Karkat had said once.

“I think the key words there are ‘hilariously ineffective.’ It’s not like anyone actually got hurt, dude. Didn’t you say that by troll standards, that’s pretty good?”

Karkat put his hands out in a frustrated, aggressive sort of gesture. “Goddamnit, Strider, is this seriously just one big  _ ironic  _ fucking joke to you?”

In actuality, Dave was having a hard time seeing the joke here. Memories were threatening to burst into his awareness, memories he had already decided he needed to ignore for the rest of time. Memories of shouting like a fucking idiot, memories of Rose’s slurring and agitated voice. They’d been talking about Earth, and birthdays, and family, and--oh. Right. They’d been talking about Bro. Rose had busted out the “a” word ( _ “abuse” _ ) and shit had gone on a downhill katamari through pigsties and cow paddies all the way down to shit creek. Fucking perfect. Wasn’t that just like Rose, butting her face in where it didn’t belong, making overblown diagnoses of other people’s shit just ‘cause she had nothing the fuck better to do. What else was fucking new?

Somehow, he couldn’t even find it in him to be properly angry. Part of that was the fact that his mind was a hazy, dehydrated mess and the head it lived in pulsed steadily with blunt pain. The whole experience was suspended in his brain like those giant monsters in tubes that Dave liked to take pictures of, the feelings he’d felt as distant as if he’d left them in a dream bubble. 

“Are you seriously just fucking  _ ignoring _ me? I’ve been up all fucking day  _ waiting for you to wake up _ \--”

“You could have just gone the fuck home, dude,” Dave found himself interrupting, spurred by the heavy throbbing in his skull. Holy  _ fuck _ was Karkat a  _ lot _ . “I didn’t fucking ask for all the fucking  _ yelling _ , man, and honest-to-god I cannot fucking deal with it. Like have I earned enough Vantas loyalty points to get one get-off-my-back free card yet?”

“I’m your fucking moirail, you idiot,” Karkat said, incredulous and offended and more than a little insecure. Under better circumstances, Dave wouldn’t have been pushing him, but his mind was a swirling mess of unwanted memories and the anxious urge to abscond from his own slow, aching body. There was no way he could have effectively flash-stepped away in his state, but he could try to get Karkat to give him space. “If you didn’t want me here when you completey fuck yourself up, then you have  _ completely fucking misunderstood _ the basic fucking premise of our relationship.”

Dave couldn’t help a groan, running his hands over his hair, ending up with his head in his hands again. “No. Dude, no. I am way too fucking hungover to deal with  _ any _ fucking conversation that contains the words ‘our relationship.’”

Thankfully, Karkat was quiet for a moment after that. Dave was grateful, concentrating on the tender muscles around his scalp and trying to will them to relax. It seemed to be working, but then the last few moments of conversation replayed in his head and he felt himself tense up, felt cold anxiety lurch in his chest. The thing was that, honestly, he knew it was an asshole thing to say when he said it, but something about the aching of his body made the instinct to be a dick that much harder to rein in. Fuck. He needed to fix this. He raised his head and took a breath to speak, but Karkat beat him to the punch. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Karkat’s voice was still quiet enough, but it teetered on the border of anguish. “What was I even thinking? I don’t--I don’t fucking-- You don’t make any fucking  _ sense _ , and I can’t believe I thought for even a fucking second you actually fucking--” He clenched his slate-grey hands in his lap, glaring hatefully down at them like they were his only audience.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to--” Dave started.

“I’m supposed to be keeping you  _ out  _ of violent situations!” Karkat exclaimed, looking up all of a sudden into Dave’s surprised face. Suddenly Dave understood what it was he’d been seeing in Karkat’s face, hearing in his voice. It wasn’t just exhaustion. Guilt and self-loathing were emanating off of him in waves. “That’s what I fucking told you I would do, and instead I managed to fuck that goal so bad up its own waste chute I actually pushed you  _ into _ a fucking conflict. I thought--I thought you needed to fucking talk to Rose because you were so--you just kept--” He gesticulated fruitlessly, increasingly agitated with the effort to communicate. “You just never shut up about human stuff that I just don’t understand. I can’t fucking understand your human shit, okay? I thought it didn’t fucking  _ matter _ , I thought I could just fucking focus on being a good  _ moirail _ and--”

“Hold up, Karkat,” Dave tried to interject. 

“--and make sure you’re not fucking stupidly isolating yourself from the  _ only other human _ who might actually  _ get your shit _ . I wasn’t trying to incite some kind of fucking  _ alien feud _ . I can’t play auspistice to a pair of you confusing fucking humans. I can’t. I  _ can’t _ .” Karkat’s head fell into his hands, soot-grey fingers and yellow-tinged claws sinking into the dense charcoal mess of his hair. There was so much stress in his posture, like the lightest load on his shoulders would break him. Which was weird to think about. Karkat had been through so much; how did he still manage to be so sensitive?

“ _ Dude _ you need to tone it down. Nobody’s feuding with anyone, you can tell Janey Lou to put away the boomstick. You didn’t ‘incite’ anything, holy shit, it’s not like there was a fucking shoot-out. Nobody’s getting put on trial, hate to break it to TZ. You’re entirely fucking innocent in all this bullshit. So fucking innocent they can’t even bring enough evidence together to make a fucking arrest, man. Can’t stress this enough. Not on you.”

Dave was sitting up, and he wanted to put a hand out reassuringly, but he honestly had no fucking idea what he’d do with it. Karkat lifted his head up just slightly. He was looking at him with misery and shame burning in those dark eyes of his, like he was begging him to convince him that none of this mess was his fault. And it well and truly  _ wasn’t _ . Dave knew that, and the idea that Karkat had gone well and truly out of his way to help Dave out and  _ still _ fucking blamed himself was just completely incomprehensible.

“And also, bullshit. I didn’t get drunk because you got me off my ass about talking to Rose--which, by the way? Thanks. I fucking needed to get off my ass about talking to Rose. I needed to do that fucking  _ months _ ago, man. That’s not why any of this shit happened. That’s all me. She had booze and I was like ‘yes, that’s what’s up,’ which it turned out, that was very much not what was up. What was up was the fuckin’ headache of despair and puking on my best trollbro, which,  _ holy shit _ I am all kinds of sorry that that happened and that I remember it fucking happening.”

Karkat shrugged stiffly, face still plastered with guilt. “I’ve been covered in worse. I can handle the consequences of my own transparently ill-fucking-advised actions.”

  
  


Dave studied Karkat, more than a little frustrated. Leave it to Karkat to hate on himself for shit that wasn’t even his fault. 

“I’m telling you, this had nothing the fuck to do with you. Rose had  _ booze _ . Shenanigans were basically inevitable. Alcohol is evil incarnate, Kar. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Makes you say shit you don’t mean and do shit you don’t want, and we’re  _ definitely  _ not letting the Mayor drink before his twenty-first birthday--”

“Dave,” Karkat sighed exasperatedly, which Dave took as his cue to steer back to relevant territory.

“--because we don’t want him to make the same mistakes I did. Like maybe challenge Rose to strife over some bullshit she said about Bro, which honestly was just Rose being Rose, only drunk out of her mind. So I guess we were both just, like, doing shit we didn’t mean and sayin’ shit we didn’t want--” A dryness in Dave’s throat cut off his thought, and for the next few seconds he was just awkwardly coughing into his elbow while Karkat sat there giving off a tired, deflated aura.

“Gimme the water again,” Dave croaked, “Fuck, the inside of my mouth has the texture of a Texan sidewalk in August getting humped by the red strip on a jumbo-size matchbo--” He started coughing again as he gratefully took the water from Karkat. 

“Sorry,” Karkat said while Dave drank, “I’m the one making you fucking talk instead of just letting you fucking rest. I’m an idiot. I should have just gone back to my block and left you to sleep, like a normal fucking person would have.”

For a moment, Dave sat there with the water bottle, catching his breath after a long drink. Water dripped down his chin and he felt an immense, unashamed gratitude that Karkat had this at the ready. Dave’s anxious pulse had finally started to even out, his body getting the message that he was safe. The full picture was dawning on him. Karkat had dragged him out of an imminent drunken strife situation, taken care of him while he shit-talked and upchucked through the fucking night, and even now, hours later, Karkat was right there with that lifesaving fucking bottle of water. That was a long way to go to help a guy just feel less shitty. It wasn’t as if the fate of the world was on the line. It was just Dave, dealing with the painful consequences of his own shitty decision-making. Karkat didn’t  _ have _ to be there.

But thank god he  _ was _ .

“That’s not what I’m trying to say, though I  _ have _ gone on record saying you need to chill the fuck out. But like I was saying before I nearly coughed out both lungs, I didn’t mean to go all aggro on Rose, challengin’ her to any honor duels or whatever,” Dave was pleased to hear that his voice sounded normal again, all neutral and cool like he meant for it to. He was watching Karkat, shifting his position like he was planning on actually getting up. “And, like, I am  _ way _ sure that it’s not going to happen again. So I mean, maybe just chill out about it? Get some sleep? You need sleep, dude. Eight hours a night. Or, a day. Or, shit, is it eight hours for you guys? Do trolls just need, like, maybe six?” He paused. “Also, I seriously need to piss like a racehorse.”

To his surprise, Karkat pushed the chair back and let himself up with a huffy sigh. He didn’t seem like he was exactly vibing with what Dave was saying, but at the least he’d found some composure. “I can take a fucking hint, okay? I should have just let you fucking recover first and then talked to you later. I don’t know what I was fucking thinking. I didn’t mean to spill all my embarrassing shit all over you the second you woke up like some needy little wiggler.”

Dave shrugged stiffly, partly because of the richly awkward vibe, but mostly because he was pretty sure every joint in his body had rusted overnight. In all honesty, he was sort of surprised Karkat was even backing off. He’d seemed honest-to-god freaked out by this whole thing, and in all honesty, he sort of deserved to understand what was going on. More than Dave had been able to explain, at least. “It’s cool, man. You were just worried ‘bout little ol’ me, can’t fucking fight it.”

Karkat gave him a familiar, judgy look that Dave automatically smirked up at. “You make absolutely no fucking sense. Think you can find the way to the load gaper by yourself this time?” Karkat stretched his back out gently as he talked, hands pressed into his lower back, his sweater hiding the arc of his body as he leaned against them. Then he slumped forward again, checking to make sure he’d captchalogued his book before heading stiffly for the door. Dave wondered how long he’d been in that chair, a pang of guilt joining the anxious flutter in his chest. 

“I dunno, man. Can you draw me a map?”

“You snide bulgehuffer.” Karkat gave him a thoughtful look. Like he wasn’t trying to start shit, but he really wanted to start shit. “Hey, were you serious about what happened with Rose?”

“Totally. So serious. Every word.” Dave paused, feet on the floor and halfway off the bed. “What part?”

“You don’t have some sort of problem with her?” he elaborated warily.

“No problems here, officer,” Dave responded with maybe more enthusiasm than honesty. Sure, he didn’t have a  _ problem _ with Rose, but that didn’t exactly change that their one major social interaction lately had nearly ended in drunken strife. Chances are they wouldn’t be reprising their sibling date anytime soon, not that he needed to address it just then. “Everyone got home safe and sound and I don’t think anyone’s pressing charges. Just a night of debauchery amongst friends gone slightly sideways, nothing to see here.”

Karkat rolled his eyes at him. “Whatever the fuck that means. So does that mean you’ll talk to her?”

Well, he didn’t need to address it unless Karkat decided to force the issue like a goddamn social freight train. Which, yeah, Dave should have expected that. He stared at Karkat blankly. “What?”

“I heard your communication device go off while you were asleep, and I’m pretty fucking sure it was Lalonde. I have it on good fucking authority from an inside source.”

“Do I win a prize if I guess who?”

The attempt at levity didn’t seem to land this time. Karkat’s body was mostly facing the door, face grumpy but otherwise unreadable. Fuck. The guy must have been so fed up with Dave’s shit by this point. Dave would have to make this whole mess up to him later. Maybe even--ugh--lift his recent ban on all things Dane Cook. Maybe.

“I’m fucking serious,” Karkat said, turning to look at him again with such out-of-place conviction it was hard to look. Seriously, how did Karkat just live like this, all feelings, all the time? ”I am not playing auspistice to a ridiculous human feud over this. If you two can’t figure your shit out, sooner or later you’re going to find yourself regretting that you fucked up your one and only human friendship for the next fucking sweep. That is time that I do not want to fucking spend watching you slide ass-first into fucking hysterics. The objective here was to reconcile the two of you cagey, shitty mammals on friendly fucking terms, and I fucking intend to do just that. Fucking answer her,” he said in what Dave assumed was probably the hangover-friendly version of his leader voice. “Got it?”

Dave reached his hands up to smooth his hair down in a deliberately slowed down version of an anxious gesture. As things were, in the pit of his stomach, Dave had already accepted that it would be a while before he could face Rose. Which was just undeniably shitty. He had just told Karkat that he was glad they had talked again, and that had been true. She was one of his best friends. Wasn’t she? The foggy memories of their shared mistakes loomed over him, incomplete and nerve-wracking. This was the exact sort of bullshit he wanted no part of.

He wasn’t in a big hurry to have anyone (read: Karkat, for starters) put anything he’d said or done under a microscope, which made it preemptively easy to forgive--not to mention discredit--anything of Rose’s. They had just as much ammunition against each other, had been equally party to the camaraderie and the anger they’d shared. It felt like mutually assured destruction, which was reassuring, given that Dave’s goal was to avoid dealing with fallout from this as much as humanly possible. 

But Karkat was looking him dead in the eye, shades or no, and Dave couldn’t deny that he was right. What he was saying, his intentions, his concern--it all made perfect, undeniable sense. It seemed stupid and needless to fight it. It was impossible to miss how much Karkat actually, weirdly, uncomfortably gave a shit about how Dave felt. Maybe even more of one than Dave himself had been able to give lately. 

Karkat slouched by the door, waiting for Dave to respond with a tired and challenging look. A few months ago, Dave never could have imagined going to Karkat for advice before Rose. It was incredible how quickly it was possible to drift apart from the people who’d been there for him forever. He couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be with John and with Jade, on the other side of all this. He wondered who’d be pushing to mend and maintain those relationships.

“...Yeah, loud and clear, man. I’ll talk to her.”

  
  


>Dave: For real this time, talk to your sister.

  
  
  


When Dave finally lowered himself onto the bed again, his head still hurt. After Karkat had left (hopefully to get some fucking sleep), Dave had slowly floated to the bathroom. He’d managed to brush his teeth, but he’d been much too dizzy to shower just yet. He’d changed into a fresh shirt anyway. It made him feel a little more like a human being and a little less like a dumpster fire. He needed at least a little dignity if he was going to talk to Rose after that enormous fucking mess.

When Dave opened Pesterchum on his phone, he found his gaze lingering on the offline handles in his chumroll. God, he missed John. There was nothing uncool in admitting it, either, as far as Dave was concerned. He wondered what John was up to, if he and Jade were getting along better than he and Rose were. Fuck. He would have pestered John about this in a heartbeat if he could have. Dude would have had no idea what to do, but he might’ve made Dave feel better about it. John was always there for him like that.

Dave frowned, setting down the phone for a moment and massaging his temples. He wondered what would have happened if John had ended up on the meteor with them. Would he have been best friends with the Mayor, too? Would he have called him on his bullshit with Rose? Would he have been the one dragging Dave’s drunken ass back to his block to sleep it off? For the briefest second, Dave could imagine John hugging him the way Karkat had, tight and supportive, before his brain recoiled.  _ Why would he even be into that?  _ He tried to ignore the decidedly-uncool stinging in the corners of his eyes. This was a weird mental road to go down. What the fuck, brain? John wasn’t there, and John wasn’t Karkat. Why did he keep comparing them, like they fit into the same slot in his brain? 

Did they?

The bed was feeling warm under him, trapping body heat. His heart rate was going up at a steady incline. He was headachey and tired and undeniably weak. This was a shitty train of thought. Karkat made a terrible replacement John. He was too angry and he definitely couldn’t take a fucking joke. But then, John would make a pretty shitty replacement Karkat. He didn’t have the guts or the raw unfiltered sincerity. There was no way he’d get in Dave’s face about shit the way Karkat did. In hindsight, Dave honestly wasn’t sure John was the kind of person who would want to. 

Dave rubbed at his eyes once more before putting his shades back on. This was a fucked up train of thought, and he needed to stop indulging it. John was his best friend, not his trollbro. He pulled his phone out and opened up Pesterchum again. He had a mission here, after all. 

Rose was one of his best friends, too. Not that Dave had been acting like it. Now that he’d actually talked to Rose, gotten way too drunk with her and come out the other side hungover and awkward, he was remembering what it had been like to be best friends with her. It wasn’t like it had been with John, but she had always been there for him. She hadn’t even givening him hell for avoiding her, and she would have had every right. Dave owed her something for that.

Karkat had been right. He already had a few messages from Rose. Not only that, but she was still online. 

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 20:15--

TT: Hello Dave.

TT: You probably are not awake yet.

TT: Or at the least not fully functional.

TT: Presuming you will read this later, I have a few things I was hoping to say.

TT: Damage control for last night, if you will.

TT: I simply wanted to say that neither of us was at their best last night, and that the situation escalated beyond where either of us expected. 

TT: My memory of the situation is not perfect, but I believe we each share the responsibility, and I am hoping that we can simply be mutually apologetic and agree not to create a repeat instance of the circumstances that led to the incident.

TT: That is to say, Kanaya has asked me not to bring alcohol to movie night anymore.

TT: I also want to address that hurtful things may have been said, and I am hoping that we can both find the maturity to agree that we do not recall the particulars.

TT: I am rather mortified for my part, if that was not clear. 

TT: I would also like to apologize for neglecting to practice or encourage moderation

TT: As well as for forgetting to warn you to drink more water, which you should be feeling the effects of by now. 

TT: I’m sorry, Dave. This really isn’t how I saw any of this going. 

TT: Please let me know when you see this.

TT: I want to know if you are okay.

\--turntechGodhead is an idle chum!--

TG: hey rose

TG: its cool

TG: it might have

TG: kind of

TG: not been entirely on you

TG: so like

TG: sorry about that i guess

TT: Apology accepted.

TG: like especially for whipping out my sword in front of you

TG: not cool to just whip out your sword in front of your sister

TG: all kinds of inappropriate

TT: I already said “Apology accepted.” Don’t ruin it.

TT: And from what I recall you whipped out at most half a sword.

TG: hey

TG: its not how much sword you drunkenly whip out during a family reunion

TG: its how you use it

TT: Honestly, Dave.

TT: Does this seriously seem like the right occasion for a dick joke?

TG: the answer to that is 

TG: literally

TG: always yes

TG: but i can see your point

TT: I was honestly not expecting to hear from you so soon.

TT: How are you feeling?

TG: like i fell off a fucking building

TG: after falling onto the building from like a weather helicopter

TG: that did a crazy tailspin and crashed into the building at the same time

TG: honest question

TG: is that normal from drinking booze

TG: or did you get the code mixed up with the one for floor cleaner

TT: Regrettably, it is normal, in my experience.

TG: what the fuck

TG: i thought getting drunk was about partying all night with no consequences

TG: what a fucking ripoff

TG: hang on while i write a sternly worded letter to the dude responsible for animal house

TT: That movie came out before either of us were born. Have you ever even seen it?

TG: minor detail

TG: anyway

TG: im still kinda surprised youre drinking at all

TT: Well

TT: I may slow down on that.

TT: The very idea is making my stomach turn at the moment.

TG: yeah

TG: good

TG: remember that feeling next time you feel like exploring the wild world of underage drunkenry

TT: Poor Karkat must be so confused.

TT: Kanaya had a hard time knowing how to react to me in my… altered state… after I sampled my first batch. 

TT: Trolls don’t appear to have a direct parallel to alcohol.

TG: how did you know karkat was here??

TT: I didn’t?

TT: He was there last night.

TT: But I suppose that explains why I heard from you so quickly.

TT: I suppose I should thank him.

TG: fuck

TG: totally failed to play that cool

TG: ok my head is fucking killing me

TG: anyway yes karkat told me to talk to you

TG: like why fucking deny it right

TG: since obviously you already like

TG: know exactly whats going the fuck on

TG: cause thats just what you do

TG: or its a seer thing idk

TG: but like

TG: its not a good look to deny shit

TT: That’s an intriguing statement.

TT: Deny what, exactly?

TG: fuck

TG: nothing

TT: Dave.

TG: rose

TT: First of all, I think I should apologize for any remarks I may or may not recall making during our recent conversation.

TT: I believe I may have made you very uncomfortable.

TG: nope

TG: whos uncomfortable

TG: not me

TG: we decided we dont remember anything

TT: Second of all, I don’t “know” anything. 

TT: I can make an educated guess.

TG: nope

TG: stop right there

TG: no guessing

TG: do not make guesses

TG: do not pass go

TG: do not collect $200

TG: lets abandon any questions before you ask it

TG: abandon it at a fire station like a baby in a basket

TG: off to an orphanage like madeline

TG: breaking bread at dinnertime living life in two straight lines

TT: Ignoring for a moment the uncomfortable child abandonment tangent

TT: Surely you can see how that only confirms said educated guess?

TG: shut up

TG: just shut up

TG: seriously this is actually like the last thing i want to talk about

TT: Why?

TT: I honestly don’t understand why you can’t talk to me about this.

TT: You do realize that I am in no position to judge you over any quadrant exploration you may or may not be doing?

TG: ok ill give you that

TG: but i thought you and kanaya were like

TG: actually into each other

TT: So that isn’t how you would describe your… situation with Karkat?

TG: what

TG: no

TG: ew

TG: it is so not like that

TT: What would you say it is like?

TG: its not like anything

TG: there is no it

TG: were not talking about this

TG: like seriously rose

TG: just leave it

TT: It’s unfortunate that you’re so self-conscious about this.

TT: I had hoped you might be open to some questions.

TT: Moirallegiance is a fascinating topic, and judging by my conversations with Kanaya, not one that I have a very firm grip on.

TG: nope

TG: stores closed

TG: strider emporium of private personal business is shuttered and locked up for good

TG: nobodys been buying

TG: better hope they got you over at walmart

TT: I can see your mind’s made up.

TT: Well

TT: It does sting somewhat not to be privy to the details of your life, but I can respect your privacy.

TT: If you ever change your mind and decide to speak with me, I hope you know you will find a sympathetic ear.

TG: i mean

TG: yeah

TG: ok

TT: Of course, that is provided that doesn’t constitute some form of pale infidelity?

TG: oh for fucks sake rose

TG: dont make me turn this heartfelt chat around

TG: dont think i fucking wont

TT: Heheheh

TT: Sorry.

TG: yeah yeah laugh it up

TG: what do i care

TG: also shut up

TG: and like

TG: listen

TG: my head is killing me so i think i only got a few minutes left here

TG: and

TG: i think i need to like

TG: stop being an asshole for a sec and say some stuff

TT: What a rare treat!

TT: I’m listening.

TG: ok

TG: so you know when we first got here shit was pretty tense

TG: like we went through some shit

TG: the trolls went through some shit

TG: and i guess i knew we were going through shit when we were like

TG: actually going through it or whatever

TG: but then it was over and

TT: And?

TG: idk

TG: it was just so fucking awkward to like

TG: be around anyone

TG: i dunno if that was just me but

TG: there was just a super weird vibe

TG: we all got stuck together in this big ol maximum security space prison

TG: like we all got served life for fucking up our sessions

TG: only we all jumped straight to solitary confinement

TG: or i guess that was just me

TG: and it turns out solitary does hella weird shit to your head

TG: makes you think about stuff

TT: Stuff?

TG: stuff

TG: yknow

TG: i mean you were fucking there

TT: Ah.

TT: That kind of stuff.

TG: look im not about to relive it rn

TG: some shitty stuff happened

TG: we all got kinda fucked up

TG: i guess we stopped talking

TG: like you and me specifically

TG: then it just kinda stayed like that

TG: i guess

TG: and i sort of just kept doing what i was doing

TG: living my best life in can town and such

TG: maybe actively trying not to think about stuff

TG: which definitely wasnt awesome of me

TG: like

TG: were bros

TG: and i just kinda left you hanging

TG: but time went on and then suddenly it was a lot of time

TG: idk

TG: relative to how long it should have been

TG: and

TT: And?

TG: sorry for not being on top of the time thing

TG: thats like my whole thing and i just kind of

TG: dropped the ball

TG: my bad

TT: I see.

TT: Well.

TT: Thank you for telling me.

TT: And also

TT: Apology accepted. 

TT: I don’t mean to be rude, but staring at this screen is conjuring the sensation of a jackhammer in my forehead. 

TT: Is there any chance we can continue this trend of speaking to one another at a less agonizing moment than this one?

TG: yea sure

TG: im down

TG: we can hang

TG: human style

TG: do human shit 

TG: get into some human shenanigans

TG: ok ow

TG: im feeling the jackhammer

TG: ow

TG: fuck

TG: dont ever fucking let me drink again rose

TG: i mean it

TT: If I understand correctly, your bad choices are Karkat’s problem now.

TT: But I can empathize.

TG: goddamnit rose

TG: we are so not there yet

TT: Sorry. ;)

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 20:58--

  
  


>Dave: Share this moment, like many of your moments, with your moirail. 

  
  


Despite his (mostly true) headache-related protests, Dave stared at the screen for a moment after Rose went offline and her chumhandle joined John’s and Jade’s. His heart was beating fast, hands uncomfortably sweaty around the phone. For a moment his mind was lagging, some distant corner replaying the conversation, combing it for obvious fuck-ups with an insecurity he wasn’t willing to acknowledge. 

Then, he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Halfway through, the exhale turned into a relieved laugh. In the solitude of his room, he allowed it. That had actually… gone okay. How about that.

In hindsight, it seemed obvious. After all, it was  _ Rose _ . Of course she wasn’t going to, what, hate him forever? For what? Drinking with her? Apologizing? What had he even been expecting to happen? The months--( _ what the fuck, months??) _ \--he’d spent beating around the bush just seemed fucking embarrassing. It dawned on Dave that that was probably exactly how Karkat had been seeing it this entire fucking time. Wow. He almost shook his head at his own bullshit before a sharp jab of pain quickly stopped him. He sort of  _ hoped _ Karkat made fun of him when he told him how it had gone. Frankly, he deserved it. 

His eyes fell on Karkat’s trolltag--he was online. A nervous, cringing sort of smile had made its way to Dave’s lips, giddy with relief. The idea of waiting to tell Karkat he’d completed his mission didn’t even cross his mind. Dave shut his eyes for a few seconds, shutting out the light of the screen. He assessed whether his body could handle the screen time. His headache didn’t seem to care much either way, if he was being honest. It just fucking hurt. He dug his feet into the mattress, nudging himself up from the nearly-horizontal position he’d slouched into. He could feel his stomach sloshing when he moved, but it did seem to settle when he stilled. The air in his block was cold around him, the perfect silence unobtrusive. 

Yeah. He could handle it.

He opened his eyes and focused on the screen again.

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 21:03--

  
  


TG: hey

TG: hows my favorite shouty troll

TG: you manage to get a nap in

TG: get all green and floaty

TG: like youre a duck and theres a crazy fucking algae bloom

TG: im pretty sure ducks sleep on the water anyway

TG: or do they do the standing on one leg thing

TG: no wait thats flamingos

TG: ducks defs float

TG: or is it more like a fully submerged type of situation

TG: the cocoon thing

TG: honestly dude im curious

TG: its easily the weirdest of all the weird troll things

TG: or i guess at least in the top five

CG: HOLY FUCK.

CG: YOU LOST ME AT “HEY,” YOU DITHERING IDIOT.

TG: love you too buddy

CG: SHUT UP.

CG: HOW ARE YOU?

TG: talk about mixed signals

TG: im good though

TG: well

TG: im pretty sure im forgetting some part of the night where a truck hit me or something

TG: cant believe god tier doesnt do jack shit against hangovers

TG: such fucking bullshit

CG: YOU SORRY SHIT. 

CG: OH NO, YOUR FUCKING LITERAL IMMORTALITY DOESN’T ALSO LET YOU ESCAPE EVERY FUCKING CONSEQUENCE OF TRYING TO FUCKING POISON YOURSELF! WHAT A FUCKING SHAME.

TG: see you get it

CG: JUST TELL ME YOU FUCKING TALKED TO ROSE.

TG: i fucking talked to rose

CG: WAIT, SERIOUSLY?

CG: I’M GENUINELY SHOCKED.

CG: MY PREEMPTIVE ANGER AND DISAPPOINTMENT HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE SHITTING FUCK TO DO WITH THEMSELVES NOW.

CG: OR WAIT

CG: ARE YOU JUST BEING FUCKING CHEEKY?

TG: always

TG: but seriously

TG: i talked to her

TG: with a maturity befitting my time god status

TG: totally worked it out

TG: talked it all out

TG: human to human

TG: strider to lalonde

TG: wasnt even a thing

CG: REALLY? DOESN’T SOUND LIKE YOU.

TG: haha ouch

TG: oh ye of little faith

TG: im serious

TG: she was surprisingly chill about the whole thing

TG: like she couldve been a lot shittier but i think she was trying to be all adult about it

TG: which was good timing cause so was i

TG: so it worked out great

TG: super stoked about it actually

TG: you were totally right

TG: shouldve done this way sooner

CG: YEAH!

CG: FUCKING THANK YOU.

CG: DAMN STRAIGHT I WAS RIGHT. I COULD’VE TOLD YOU THAT MYSELF AND WE COULD HAVE AVOIDED THIS WHOLE BUMBLING ENTANGLEMENT WITH WIGGLER DRAMA. 

CG: NEXT TIME SAVE US ALL THE TROUBLE AND JUST LISTEN TO ME THE FIRST TIME, YOU IDIOT. 

CG: <>

TG: ok first things first thats totally fair

TG: second

TG: if i get your whole cutesy diamond biz

TG: that was like the prickliest fucking virtual bro hug

TG: like spooning a porcupine

TG: only emotionally

TG: like before you typed your pointy brackets you were giving me this well deserved verbal smackdown

TG: and then its like

TG: jk i totally meant that in a super soft and fluffy way

TG: though actually that is pretty on brand for you

CG: OH MY GOD SHUT UP

CG: SHUT UP

CG: WHAT IS FUCKING WRONG WITH YOU?

CG: THAT’S NOT WHAT IT MEANS, AND YOU CAN GO FONDLE MY SHAME GLOBES.

TG: aww no brodiamond this time?

CG: OH MY GOD

CG: WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LISTEN TO THE FIRST FUCKING *SHUT UP*?

TG: this from the guy that couldnt stop yelling at my hangover headache

TG: which actually

TG: is still a thing

CG: GREAT.

CG: THAT MEANS YOU MIGHT, AT LAST, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

TG: keep dreaming man

TG: but before you go get your actual dreaming on

TG: which you should defs go do cause youre clearly cranky af

CG: THAT’S IT, I’M OUT.

TG: i wanted to thank you

CG: ...DID YOU NOW.

TG: i think earlier i was still too fucked up to remember to say it

TG: which is shitty

TG: but 

TG: if it wasnt for you id still be twiddling my thumbs avoiding rose for like

TG: absolutely no fucking reason

TG: or id be passed out in a pool of my own vomit in the common room

TG: which is just all kinds of fucking embarrassing but kind of literally true right now

TG: cant exactly deny it

TG: you were there and everything

TG: caught me red handed at the whole drunken fuck ups game

TG: so like

TG: sorry you had to do all that

TG: and

TG: thanks

CG: DON’T APOLOGIZE.

CG: BELIEVE IT OR NOT, I ACTUALLY FUCKING *WANT* TO BE THERE FOR YOU. 

CG: I MEAN I DON’T WANT YOU TO DO THAT EVER AGAIN, JEGUS. 

CG: THAT WAS THE MOST EXHAUSTING THING I’VE HAD TO FUCKING DEAL WITH SINCE WE STARTED THIS MOTHERFUCKING VOYAGE TO OUR DEATHS.

CG: BUT YOU’RE MY MOIRAIL. THIS IS LITERALLY WHAT I AGREED TO.

TG: ok you say that

TG: but you didnt even know what booze was till kanaya told you

TG: you didnt sign up for that shit

TG: nobody actually wants to drag their drunken bros around

TG: even if theyre like best bros 4 lyfe

TG: its just a lot to ask of a guy

TG: way above and beyond the call of duty

CG: ...IF YOU SAY SO.

TG: totally am saying so

CG: WELL.

CG: OKAY.

CG: YOU’RE WELCOME.

TG: cool

CG: AND I GUESS YOU HAVE A POINT.

CG: YOU *REEKED.*

CG: YOU’RE LUCKY YOUR LAUGHABLE SNIFFSPONGE COULDN’T PICK UP EVERY LAYER OF STENCH.

CG: I HAD TO SCRUB IT OFF IN THE FUCKING ABLUTION TRAP. IT WAS IN MY FUCKING *HAIR.*

TG: lol

TG: yea

TG: i practically had a breath attack when i woke up this morning

CG: NO KIDDING. YOU PRACTICALLY SINGED MY FUCKING EYEBROWS OFF.

TG: oh shit it knows people words

TG: you sure you dont mean face commas

TG: fuzz dashes

TG: reverse moustaches

CG: OH HARDY HAR HAR

CG: YOU MUST THINK YOU’RE SO FUCKING CLEVER.

TG: absolutely

TG: you know im always spitting the cleverest shit

TG: its like jurassic park up in this block

TG: try to barricade yourself from my epic wit

TG: but my references can open doors like oh fuck

TG: chew you up raptor style

CG: EITHER YOUR HEAD IS FEELING BETTER OR YOU’RE HAVING SOME KIND OF NEUROLOGICAL EVENT.

CG: IT’S DISTRESSING HOW HARD IT IS TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE WITH YOU.

TG: oh karkat

TG: karkles

TG: kitkat

TG: shoutykat

TG: krabkrab

CG: OH OKAY, NEUROLOGICAL EVENT IT IS.

CG: CLEARLY HALF YOUR THINKPAN MUST HAVE MELTED ONTO THE FLOOR BY NOW.

CG: YOU’VE LITERALLY MELTED YOUR PAN WITH THAT INDUSTRIAL-STRENGTH PAINT THINNER YOU DRANK.

TG: kar

TG: you wound me

TG: but seriously are you telling me you never saw jurassic park

CG: WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO SAY IT LIKE THAT?

CG: NEWSFLASH: I HAVEN’T SEEN EVERY SHITTY HUMAN MOVIE EVER MADE.

CG: YOU CAN STOP ACTING SURPRISED NOW.

TG: aw hell

TG: jurassic park is a classic

TG: like one of the actual serious honest to god best movies ever made

TG: fuck i cant believe i dont have it

TG: i hope john managed to save jurassic park

TG: or jade

TG: rose and i are doing such a shitty job as ambassadors of earth

CG: YOU MEAN AMBASSASSINS?

TG: yikes

TG: no

TG: no i do not

TG: theres no way those are even remotely the same thing

TG: but

TG: i should go

TG: staring at this screen is doing bad things to my stomach

TG: digestion bladder

CG: I KNOW WHAT A STOMACH IS, NOOKWIPE.

CG: DO YOU NEED ANYTHING?

TG: nah

TG: ill be fine

TG: you just get to spending quality time with that alien goo pod of yours

TG: get all nice and cozy in your jumbo jello mold

CG: I DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS BIZARRE FIXATION ON MY RECUPERACOON BUT DO YOU ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING DISGUSTING ABOUT IT?

CG: NO WAIT

CG: DON’T ANSWER

CG: JUST GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE ONE OF US THROWS UP. 

TG: lol

TG: ok

TG: but only cause its about to be me

TG: sweet dreams bro

\--turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 21:24--

PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 20.1%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Wertiyurae for looking this over for me!
> 
> Thanks for everyone who has commented, kudos'd, bookmarked, subscribed, what have you. I deeply appreciate y'all. :)
> 
> Next chapter in the works.


	13. >Karkat: Once again, try to cope with panwarping trauma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up about some negative self-talk, general emotional awkwardness/messiness, and vague spoilers for Die Hard 3.

PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 21.1%

>Karkat: Once again, try to cope with panwarping trauma.

Dreams in sopor slime, whatever dreams didn’t make it to the bubbles, were vague and faint. This was by design. When the day terrors were muted and the fear and rage stayed distant, the content of the dreams faded quickly upon waking and the psychological scarring was kept to a minimum. For Karkat, the blurry and feverish awareness of a sopor dream had long since taken on its own type of horror. The vague impressions they left him with were haunting--splattered colors in a hallway and the vacant eyes of recent corpses. 

And then of course there was the smell.

It was thick but underwhelming, barely sweet, like the soft-cooked insides of an egg. When it was a fresh batch, sopor slime hardly smelled at all. It was the easiest smell to get used to, unless you’d ever known anyone who overindulged, who marinated in the stuff from the inside out until his smell was always laced with that unmistakable aroma. Unless you were unlucky enough to have ever gotten close enough to Gamzee Makara for your thinkpan to sound the alarm at anything that looked like him, sounded like him, smelled like him. Karkat thought he’d gotten over it, had clocked so many perfectly uneventful dream bubble hours from his recuperacoon that it didn’t faze him anymore, but lately the smell had been enough to rouse him from his shallow and frenzied sleep. 

Karkat’s eyes shot open, instantly wide and alert, kept from leaping to his feet only by the firm resistance of the slime against his limbs. Fuck, he could smell him, he could still hear the phantom honking, see the outlines of his fangs, his looming posture, that creepy facepaint, and oh holy shit. 

Something sharp and urgent shot through Karkat’s awareness and he was throwing his arms up through stiff slime and over his head reflexively, brushing the stiff and papery interior. The sopor thickened around his waist and legs, responding to his sudden movements. He stilled, reacting to the familiar sensation but not yet trusting it. Arms still poised to defend himself, Karkat peered out of the recuperacoon’s opening and around the dark and empty block. Of fucking course it was empty. He was still alone. Why wouldn’t he be? His arms came down, draping over the hull, still shaking, fear roving through him divorced of its source. Right. Just a shitty dream. Not like that was anything new. Just an aftershock from that fucking--

Oh sweet jegus the smell

Karkat scrambled out of the cocoon in an effective but indelicate manner, pure muscle memory, and sank in a heap on the floor in a slick puddle. He drew his arms up around himself, covered his head, forced down a wave of panicked nausea. Trying not to fucking whimper by himself in an empty room because of how goddamn stupid that would have been of him, he asked himself a question he never dared ask these days: Where’s Gamzee? 

He used to ask that in the naive hope that Gamzee would come to comfort him. Clinging to fantasies of honest and earnest pale affection, like he’d read about and seen in movies, Karkat had curled up on horn piles and just let his miserable mind wander. Karkat would remember what Gamzee had been like before everything went to shit, imagined Gamzee curled up with him in the mass of cool, hard edges. Even with the occasional honk of a horn, Gamzee had been disarmingly comforting, reassuring Karkat that they were best friends until he could almost believe that he didn’t need to be culled for his mounting failures. They were rare, idealized memories, and Karkat had clung to them.

Months removed from his “best friend,” the moirail who’d turned on him, whom he’d failed in turn, Karkat wondered that question with cold, hollow dread. Where was Gamzee? Was he under control? Was he locked up or just mellowed out on something? What kind of dangerous bullshit was taking seed in that shitclown’s sopor-softened thinkpan? Were they all still safe? It was normally enough to just dump what Karkat knew from experience to be the completely fucking unenviable task of grubsitting Gamzee on Serket’s infuriatingly self-satisfied shoulders, but in that moment, in the dark, Karkat couldn’t be sure of anything. Not that he was going to give that bitch the satisfaction of trolling her in the middle of the day to check. 

A part of his thinkpan that probably knew what it was talking about, the part that confidently lectured his friends about quadrants, was screaming at Karkat to reach out to Dave. Dave was his moirail, goddamnit, Karkat was supposed to reach out. Dave was supposed to want him to. That was, if he wanted to completely oversimplify the issue, the entire motherfucking point and purpose of their relationship. 

Except that was completely oversimplifying the issue, and as far as Karkat knew, Dave barely understood the point of their relationship. Was this really a good time to find the limit of that understanding?

Karkat let out a silent, frustrated sob as he drew in on himself. 

>Dave: Try not to be a culturally insensitive asshole.

In the time Dave had spent on the meteor, the common room had changed very little. It was fairly spacious, and the furniture and carpet made it feel sort of like an underground rumpus room. The illusion was sort of wrecked by how sparse it tended to be. Sure, occasionally, Karkat would leave behind a book as he stormed off, or Rose would leave behind some knitting on a chair, but for the most part it seemed as though everyone was in the habit of keeping their shit to themselves. 

On Earth, Dave had never done much hanging out in rooms like that, common spaces where anyone could enter without warning. He found it made it just a little harder to relax. At this point, if it weren’t for movie night, he’d never have any reason to park his ass on the common room couch. Though this time, it was just him and Karkat, so in all fairness they could have done this just about anywhere. The common room was quite spartan that particular day, although a modest mass of chalk scribbles had appeared on one wall. Dave had assumed by the lack of recognizable shape that Terezi had been responsible, though he still hadn’t seen much of her around since she and Vriska supposedly got back. 

The movie was a rare treat in that it was a troll film that wasn’t a romantic comedy. In fact, it was one of the Troll Die Hard movies. Dave had actually been pretty psyched when it came up in Karkat’s list of options for the night. Dave had seen it, sure, but not since the first week or so when the lot of them had been hanging out together. It must have been on loan from Terezi or something. They’d retrieved some popcorn from the meal block, confirmed with Rose that nobody else was showing up, and got the movie started with a practiced flow that barely required conversation. 

Dave had skipped wearing his cape and he was flat on his back on the couch with his knees hooked over one of the armrests. Part of his mind protested that he couldn’t keep an eye on the door from this angle, but that was entirely fucking stupid. Nobody else was coming, it was just him and Karkat, he could get comfy. With a small pillow cradling his head, it was downright fucking luxurious. 

Karkat was slouched over by the other armrest, propping his head up on one hand lazily. From his angle, Dave couldn’t quite see inside the bowl on Karkat’s lap, but he reached up into it anyway, blindly grabbing a handful of popcorn. A few stray kernels fell to the floor and Karkat grumbled at him about making a fucking mess. He was definitely having a scowly sort of day, even for Karkat. 

On-screen, the main terrorist guy had just made his first demand, and Troll McClane was standing on what looked like a dark and dingy street corner wearing a sandwich board reading “CULL ALL SHITBLOODS.” Huh, well that was definitely something. Dave remembered this scene from the human version, they’d seen it enough times. He hadn’t known that there was a troll version the first time they’d seen it, and he’d had to eventually give up on explaining that scene to Karkat and let Rose do it. It gave him a thought.

“Dude, one of these days,” he said between bites of popcorn, “you’ve got to explain the blood thing to me. Explain for real, I mean.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The whole hemo-racist thing.”

“You already know whatever the fuck there is to know about the hemospectrum,” Karkat grunted shortly. “And you fucking know that that’s what it’s called.”

“Yeah, I kind of picked it up, but it’s not like I ever got the full schoolfeed or whatever.” Dave wasn’t sure exactly whether peppering troll words into his sentences annoyed Karkat or if he secretly liked it, but he found the eye roll it earned him gratifying either way. 

“I have fucking explained it to you, bulgebite,” Karkat replied without looking down. “It’s not my fucking fault you don’t listen.”

“Oh nuh-uh, no way I would’ve tuned that out. You’re cagey as fuck about blood stuff.”

That earned him a grumbled “shut up, fuck you” that was more grunt than words and a handful of popcorn to the face. Dave didn’t move, just took it like a Strider with a smirk. Honestly, it had practically been an underreaction compared to what he’d expected. “Yeah, that’s basically Karkat for ‘How are you always right about everything, Dave?’” 

He got up halfway for long enough to brush popcorn out from under his neck and back. Karkat kept his eyes trained somewhat sleepily on the screen. “No, it’s just plain fucking words for ‘stop stuffing my earflaps with your delusions and let me enjoy the fucking movie in peace.’”

Troll Carver appeared on the screen, bright brown eyes and hulking horns, a decidedly more imposing figure than the human version. Dave could hear Karkat crunching, his teeth clicking together noticeably. Troll teeth were not so efficient at chewing up plants and popped plant-based snacks, Dave had learned, not that it seemed to stop them. He waited for some unasked for explanation of the character dynamic, some troll cultural lesson or triumphant reminiscence of past victories online against objectively wrong opinions about the writers’ intent. None came.

“I’m just sayin’,” Dave said after a moment, because it had been literally weeks since they’d had a movie night this quiet. “If I’m gonna be living here in Little Alternia, I oughta understand the ways of the locals. That includes your weird rainbow racist vibes, at the very least ‘cause it’ll make Raunchy Read-Aloud Power Hour less confusing.”

Karkat quirked an eyebrow, distracted from his effort to pay attention to Troll McClane and Troll Carver’s dudely meet-cute. “Little Alternia?”

“It was either that or ‘New Trollsylvania.’” Dave grinned, brought his arms up to put his hands behind his head. It turned out there wasn’t actually that much room between Karkat’s thigh and Dave’s head, so his elbows were making contact, but Karkat didn’t seem like he noticed.

Karkat rolled his eyes at Dave, brow still furrowed in exasperation but amusement tugging unmistakable at his lip. “Did you seriously fucking name the meteor? And those two turds were all you could come up with?”

“What? Nah, man. The meteor stays unnamed. Not even doing the thing where I capitalize it in my head all proper noun style. But you gotta admit this is basically Troll City. Rose and I are practically tourists that got stuck when we missed the last flight out. I mean, shit, have you seen the fucking meal block? It’s like living in a frat house with a bunch of fucking geckos. At least, I’m pretty sure geckos eat bugs and, like, bug-adjacent goods. Maybe not so much the mushy blocks of protein of indeterminate origin, or whatever the fuck grubsauce is. Seriously, you guys could stand to alchemize up some opaque tupperware. But y’know, no need to get too apologetic, my fridge at home wasn’t for food either, so I guess I’m sort of used to it.”

“Would you shut up?” Karkat snarled, not baited for once by Dave openly mocking his food. “I’m not pausing the movie to give you time to run your stupid mouth about the contents of our thermal hull.”

“I’m just trying to take an interest, Kar, you don’t gotta be a dick.”

“Just because I graciously make myself available to answer all your incredibly basic and trivial questions about my planet doesn’t mean you need to constantly find worse and worse times to bombard me with them. Now, Dave, please. I’m trying to fucking watch.”

Dave considered ignoring that and trying to drag him, kicking and likely screaming, into a full-on banter-off, but the tone of Karkat’s voice stopped him. Dude had been hella prickly lately. As if on cue, Karkat yawned, showing his fangs and the curious grey inside of his mouth, and Dave took that as confirmation that he was probably badly lacking in beauty sleep. He sort of felt bad for making Karkat hang out with him when he probably needed some quality slime time. 

Realizing he was sort of staring, Dave looked back to the screen in time to watch the aftermath of an explosion on some sort of city block. Victims were strewn about, broken horns and broken bodies and all different colors of blood splattered about. It was fucking gruesome, which wasn’t out of the norm for troll movies. Dave wanted to be above having an opinion on it, but the truth was that he wasn’t really a fan. There was something about how much the violence seemed to be so trivial as to be a given, despite the meticulous attention paid to portraying it believably. It was creepy.

“Jesus, I do not think the human version of this movie is this graphic.”

“Too much?” Karkat asked .

Dave shook his head, even though Karkat wasn’t looking and he was basically just smooshing his hair into the pillow. “Nah, I mean, it’s just special effects, right? I just can’t believe you of all people would put on an action movie. This doesn’t seem up your alley at all man.”

Karkat snorted, lifting his head from its dock on his hand. “Of course you don’t understand. Everyone gets this movie wrong. They just look at it as an action movie, but where it actually excels is in the dialogue and character exploration. The leads have a really compelling pale dynamic, and because it’s not a quadrant-focused movie, the subtlety of their pale relationship plays off the intensity of the scenario and the arc of their pale flirtation comes across really nicely.”

“What? Karkat brought another palemance flick to movie night? Never would’ve expected.”

“Don’t fucking blame me, you’re the one that fucking turned down my first two suggestions.”

“I keep telling you, I’m not watching Dane Cook’s smarmy mug anymore. He’s like the rigged carnival milk bottle game of people. No matter how much time you throw at his dumb movies, you’re never gonna win any fucking prizes. It actually makes me worry for your sanity that you can still look him in his beady, shitty eyes. Do we need to stage an intervention?”

“Shut up and pay attention! You can be wrong later.”

The rest of movie night was set to go more normally, with Karkat injecting his perspective wherever he saw fit. It made it hard to actually pay attention, but it was a relief. If he could still rant about movies, things couldn’t be so bad. Dave engaged him here and there, earning himself another faceful of popcorn for his troubles, but mostly he just let his attention drift between the film and Karkat’s voice. It was a familiar and remarkably fucking cozy soundscape. He wondered distantly if Karkat’s on-the-fly film critiques were worth sampling.

“...and because of the pace of the film, it’s not like they could get into a lot of nuanced quadrant exploration. A lot of it gets squeezed in at the end, which isn’t uncommon for the genre. It’s messy, but it gets the point across.”

Dave wasn’t tuning him out exactly, but he was trying to watch the screen. Troll McClane and Troll Carver were talking about Troll McClane’s wife or matesprit or whatever. Then, Troll Carver picked a hand up and, with this smooth-as-fuck little smirk, straight-up started petting McClane on his face. Dave got it, he knew it was a pale thing, but it was still sort of funny to watch. It wasn’t like the fluffy and overly-romanticized papping scenes in Karkat’s romcoms, it was just a grown-ass man petting another grown-ass man’s face like it was perfectly fucking normal. He noticed Karkat had gone quiet and looked up at him, not really able to read his face from this angle. 

“Not gonna schoolfeed me on this bit, man?” Dave said in a tone that he hoped would cut the awkward with levity.

Karkat didn’t look at him. “Shut up. You’re going to miss the end.”

Dave grinned, waggled his eyebrows even though Karkat wasn’t looking. “Come on, man. You were so into the pale stuff before, man. Don’t you wanna give your expert opinion on that scandalous little pap-happy display?” 

Karkat turned his head to retort, glaring down at him. “Holy fuck, Strider, can you just shut the fuck--”

With a cocky smirk and the kind of speed and dexterity you only get if you’re a cool fucker who can flash step out of anything, Dave had a hand to Karkat’s face. It was an insincere mockery of the gesture they’d just watched onscreen. 

Karkat was looking down at him with wide, stunned yellow eyes, mouth hanging open and teeth exposed. If he hadn’t known better, Dave would have wondered if time had stopped. Shit. He’d been expecting a lot more comedic yelling. It was uncomfortable to see Karkat speechless. He looked confused and annoyed, like he was trying to process a stupid question from an inattentive student. As the seconds ticked by this situation was getting increasingly awkward, but Dave couldn’t let it show in his face. So he held his smirk and gave Karkat another ironically affectionate pat on the cheek. 

“Just checking to see if you’re awake, man.”

There it was. Karkat’s eyes narrowed down at him like he was the source of all the world’s headaches, and he brushed away Dave’s hand with an exasperated, “Fucking humans,” that Dave might have been offended by if he hadn’t been completely used to it. “Why does everything have to be such a fucking joke to you?” Karkat’s eyes were on the screen again, still glaring. His voice wasn’t even raised, just low and sort of defeated, like he hadn’t been talking to Dave to begin with. And that was it. No rant, no shouting, not even a handful of popcorn to the face. That was just it.

Dave awkwardly swung his legs around so he was seated more normally, trying not to let his embarrassment show in his face. He scanned the block automatically now that he could, but it was empty aside from the two of them and this gross awkward pseudo-silence he’d instigated. The last few minutes of the movie played out on the screen in front of them as neither of them said anything. Sneaking a glance, Dave at least confirmed that Karkat was done looking scandalized. He was back to just looking exhausted, bristly mane hanging in his face. Then the movie was over and Karkat was captchaloguing the popcorn bowl and the DVD in sleepy silence. Dave felt like maybe he had to actually say something.

“You alright, man?” Dave was surprised to hear it come out so sincere. He would have cringed at himself if it weren’t actually the right tone to be striking in that particular moment.

Karkat’s expression, which had been developing a bitter sort of grimace, softened. He took a breath that turned into a yawn, which was slightly objectively endearing. Like an angry toddler after bedtime, or something like that. 

“I’m fine,” Karkat said, when he was done yawning and rubbing his eyes. 

Dave opened his mouth to reply and found himself yawning. Well, at least they knew yawning was interspecies-contagious. “Dude, you gotta go hit the hay. Or, hit the slime? I’ll clean up this mess you made.”

There was still popcorn all over the floor around the couch from when Karkat had thrown it at him, but Dave owed him. After all, Karkat had cleaned up plenty of his messes.

“Mess I made?” Karkat protested. “You were the one--” He cut himself off with a yawn. “Oh fuck it. I’ll see you in Can Town.”

“Bright and early.”

Dave heard Karkat mutter a faint “whatever that means” as he shuffled out of the block. He wondered if he should have said something sooner, made him go get sleep instead of watching Troll Bruce Willis run around defusing bombs. It wasn’t like Karkat’s sleep issues were any kind of secret; the bags under his eyes clearly meant the same thing on a troll’s face as they did on a human’s. Dave just didn’t particularly want to poke at what was probably a touchy subject. If Karkat wanted to talk about it, he would. Nothing could stop him when he had something to say. 

Besides, Dave wasn’t exactly the Knight of Sleep. He didn’t exactly know what to offer Karkat, anyway.

>Karkat: Avoid your moirail.

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 04:23--

TG: hey  
TG: karkat  
TG: kitkat  
TG: karkles  
TG: karkar  
TG: mr. krabs  
TG: vitamin k  
CG: FOR FUCK’S SAKE.  
CG: WHAT?  
TG: im putting on a movie in the common room  
TG: hurry up dude  
TG: were waiting on you  
CG: OH.  
CG: GET STARTED WITHOUT ME.  
CG: I’M ACTUALLY NOT COMING TONIGHT.  
TG: oh  
TG: ok  
TG: sick of reruns  
TG: i get it  
TG: is something up or  
CG: WHAT?  
TG: its just you took yesterday off too  
TG: didnt see you punch in at the construction site  
TG: the mayor even came to visit us lowly laborers  
TG: and he was all  
TG: wheres karkat  
TG: i got the key to the city all ready for him  
TG: got a nice coat of that shiny key wax and everything  
TG: i couldnt lie to him man  
TG: i had to tell him  
TG: so i said  
TG: turns out karkats playing hooky   
TG: and no joke  
TG: he cried this sad little single Mayor tear  
TG: just devastating  
CG: OH PLEASE, DAVE.  
CG: YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THE MAYOR HAS MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT THAN WHETHER OR NOT I HANG OUT IN HIS MAKE-BELIEVE CITY.  
TG: whoa  
TG: make believe  
TG: thats fighting words  
TG: better hope i dont tell the mayor  
TG: dude will weep  
TG: like for real this time  
CG: HOLY FUCK SHUT UP.  
CG: I’M JUST TIRED AND I DON’T WANT TO STRUGGLE TO STAY AWAKE THROUGH A MOVIE.  
CG: I’M SLEEPING KIND OF LIKE SHIT LATELY.  
CG: BUT WHAT ELSE IS FUCKING NEW?  
TG: hmm   
TG: news  
TG: oh  
TG: i saw some fresh chalk in one of the halls  
TG: sort of near can town but past it  
TG: coming from your block  
TG: so theres that  
TG: its totally the mayors style but it was pretty far up the wall  
TG: you havent seen him carrying around a footstool or anything have you  
TG: he needs a spotter if hes climbing on anything  
CG: DAVE, PLEASE. I’M NOT IN THE FUCKING MOOD.  
TG: got it  
TG: heard  
TG: loud and clear  
TG: so thats a no for movie night  
CG: THAT’S WHAT I SAID.  
TG: good call  
TG: you should def sit this one out  
TG: take a goo nap  
CG: IT’S SLIME, NOOKWHIFF.  
TG: is that supposed to be better or something  
CG: IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE ACCURATE, THANK YOU VERY FUCKING MUCH.  
TG: ok so  
TG: go take a slime nap  
TG: catch some goopy zs  
TG: wait youre not like breathing that shit are you  
TG: blowing slime bubbles in your weird purple cocoon  
TG: cant imagine washing that shit out of my hair every morning  
TG: or is it more like jello than jelly  
TG: either way  
TG: i bet troll slime stains the fuck out of these luscious locks  
CG: WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING OBSESSION WITH MY RECUPERACOON LATELY?  
CG: YOU KNOW WHAT  
CG: DON’T EVEN FUCKING TELL ME.  
CG: AREN’T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE AT MOVIE NIGHT?  
CG: DID ROSE NOT SHOW UP?  
TG: what obsession  
TG: you sleep in a giant fucking raw egg  
TG: its weird as shit  
TG: and dont worry  
TG: rose is here to keep the party going  
TG: the uh  
TG: completely lame and dry liquor-free party  
TG: doing it up middle school promways  
TG: only without the awkward corsages or the gym teacher stepping up to dj  
TG: and instead of dancing in a circle with your friends  
TG: its just me and rose chillaxing with bruce willis  
TG: since youre too cool to hang with us  
CG: THEN DON’T KEEP HER WAITING TALKING TO ME, STRIDER.  
CG: I’LL SEE YOU LATER.  
TG: ok bro  
TG: get some rest  
TG: hmu if you need anything

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead at 04:31--

Karkat let himself sink deeper into his pile, shutting off his palmhusk screen. His pile wasn’t very big, made mostly of duplicate romance novels and DVD cases he’d alchemized, spare sweaters and surplus boxes of chalk, but it was big enough for him and it didn’t honk anymore. Thank god. He’d been spending a lot of time there lately, reading and watching movies and spacing out miserably for hours and hours instead of sleeping. He hadn’t gone near his cocoon in nights, though he couldn’t be sure just how many. He’d had insomnia before, so at the least he knew what to expect. He’d hit the stage where things were starting to get fuzzy around the edges, but at the least he didn’t actually feel tired all the time anymore. 

The conversation he’d just had ran through Karkat’s head as he picked it apart resentfully. He should’ve been glad Dave was spending time with Rose, and on some level he was, but the uncertainty growing in his thorax made it hard. He hadn’t been honest about his feelings. With his own moirail. He felt so guilty and awful he wished sleep would just take him in his pile, risk of day terrors be damned. Too bad he wasn’t even fucking tired. His body was a jittery, wired mess of exhausted nerves and unrelenting wide-eyed insomnia. Why couldn’t he just talk to his own fucking moirail? 

Karkat knew that, arguably more than any other quadrant, moirallegiance required them to truly be in this together. Equally. Honestly. Dave needed to understand it, like how Karkat understood it. They needed to both be equally invested for both of them to be secure. But Karkat didn’t know if they were. What if a littermate was really all the pale attention a human needed? What if he’d never actually wanted to be pale with Karkat, and now that he’d gotten what he’d actually needed, he had every reason to leave him high and dry? What if this was just another one-sided and dead-end farce of a moirallegiance? What if this had been a mistake, if Dave didn’t understand what Karkat needed from him after all?

What did Karkat need from him?

Looking at the same walls every day, thinking through the same damning mistakes and frustrations, trying to skip over the parts that made his bloodpusher seize in fear--Karkat found it too easy to just feel completely disconnected. The concept of three years in space crumbled like sand in the face of how elusive time was, how strangely it seemed to crawl or race depending on what would cause the most grief. He was always dreaming about the past, he was always avoiding the future. 

Dave was hard to read, and he made Karkat cringe, and the whole alien thing continued to be fucking annoying. But Dave talked to Karkat like shit was just normal--fucked, but normal, in a particular way he hadn’t had since maybe Sollux, a long time ago, before the weird flirting had started up. Dave let Karkat spend a ridiculous amount of time with him, near-constantly, without ever complaining or sniping about how Karkat couldn’t find anything better to do. When Dave was around, it was like there was an actual moment to be present in. He grounded Karkat. He didn’t even have to be doing it on purpose. It was just something that happened to Karkat around Dave.

Karkat wanted it to… keep happening. But like a selfish, sappy idiot, he wanted it to be something that Dave was doing on purpose, too. On purpose, for Karkat. The thought hurt to touch, a dark and secret wish buried so deep inside him it seemed not to be inside him at all. He had to reach out for it, somewhere in space, and when he did it shocked him like a live wire. 

When his eyes began to sting, Karkat finally realized he was about the start crying like a wiggler. This was way too regular an occurrence lately. Hadn’t he learned his fucking lesson with Gamzee? It was stupid. Karkat knew it was stupid, overwhelmingly and fucking unforgivably stupid, to expect anyone to ever actually want to come through for him.

Talk to your fucking moirail, a bitter and condescending corner of his thinkpan taunted him. It’s not even remotely a hard fucking question. What the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously, besides the fucking obvious, you self-pitying mutant shit.

Karkat sniffled, wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his sweater. For fuck’s sake, what wasn’t wrong with him? The books and DVD cases in his pile shifted against each other, clattering, settling, jarring in the quiet of his block. The question kept echoing through his pan, shaming and disdainful.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

>Dave: Wonder what’s wrong with your trollbro lately.

Dave looked up from his phone to Rose’s expectant face, settling back into the couch in a casual recline. “Looks like we’re doing the ectosibling bonding thing today.”

“Is Karkat not joining us?”

“Says he’s not feeling it,” Dave said, as nonchalantly as he could. He didn’t realize he was covering for Karkat until he said it, and it brought an awkward twinge to his stomach. He felt like he was hiding something to save face, but he wasn’t even sure what.

“Is everything alright?” Rose asked when he didn’t elaborate. She was relaxed in her armchair and had paused in knitting some sort of dense green shape that didn’t quite look like a garment yet. Dave figured he didn’t need three guesses to know who it was for, given how color-coded their social circle was. 

“Yeah, he’s just being lame.” Dave paused, considering. “Not sure what his deal is lately, he’s been all kinds of fucking moody.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Karkat was basically always moody, especially when he wasn’t sleeping well, which was also basically always. Lately it had just been… worse. He was talking less. He was skipping out on Can Town. He was making Dave feel like an ass by engaging less and less with Dave’s hilarious and on point examples of human comedy. Weirdly, what he wasn’t doing was talking (read: yelling) about what was actually up with him. It was sort of reminding Dave of back when Karkat had been chatting himself up across time.

“Why don’t you just ask him? I was under the impression that was within the boundaries of your… friendship,” Rose settled on. She was tiptoeing around the fact of Dave’s moirallegiance with all the ninja stealth of an irate crow confined indoors. She was definitely choosing not to be subtle about it, which Dave could appreciate on a meta level. Avoiding the issue should have made denial easier, but because of how she did it, it was only bringing attention to how easily Rose saw through him. Goddamnit. 

What was worse, she was probably right. Goddamnit x2 combo. 

He had honestly figured she’d end up being right if he asked, which was why he’d sort of been lowkey hoping that her advice would be something to the tune of “give the dude space, no need to smother a guy with concern all mother henlike.” Not that he’d done that. Shit, he’d pointedly not done any smothering if he could help it, outside of some snarky nudging in the direction of a supposedly-cozy sleep cocoon. His baseline assumption was that if Karkat wanted to talk, he’d be talking already. Excessively. 

Despite all the time they’d spent reading that troll bodice ripper, the exact expectations of this whole diamonds thing were clearer in theory than in practice. In theory it was just a more feelingsy and sentimental way to be best buds with your best bud, which made a lot of sense coming out of Karkat’s mouth. In practice it was a troll thing with troll rules that Dave was generally apprehensive about and wasn’t sure how to apply. Dave wasn’t a troll, and to him, it sure didn’t feel like Karkat wanted to talk. 

Rose wasn’t a troll either, so maybe her perspective didn’t apply, but this was still the closest Dave was going to get to actually asking for advice about his moirallegiance.

“He doesn’t need me getting all up in his shit every time he doesn’t feel up for another rerun,” Dave said with a deliberately casual tone. “I’m his bro, not his babysitter.”

Rose gave him a look that made him feel stupid. He didn’t let it show. 

“You got something to say, Rose?”

Rose pursed her lips, setting the knitting in her lap and putting her elbows on the armrests. “I would rather not risk commenting on how you handle your private affairs, that said--”

“When have you ever let that stop you?” Dave chimed in with a smirk.

“That said.” Rose pinned him with a patiently frustrated look, purple and glinting. “I imagine Karkat would appreciate your interest in how he is feeling. I understand that acknowledging the existence of feelings goes against your lifelong code of conduct--” Dave raised an eyebrow at that, which Rose ignored--“but somehow I rather doubt Karkat shares the same taboos.” She brought her hands up in front of her face, leaning into her elbows and lacing her fingertips together, peering at Dave over her nails. “In fact, one might say he has an entire quadrant devoted to that particular set of needs.”

Dave stared her down for a moment, maintaining an iron grip on his cool. He was hellbent on refusing to acknowledge his whole diamond-bro-allegiance thing with Karkat around Rose; it was not a thing he could handle an honest-to-god examination of in human terms. But that made it hard to shut her down when she goaded him with shit like that. Today at least, the tradeoff was pretty fair; it was honestly good to get the feedback. He just didn’t want to give Rose the satisfaction if he could help it. They hadn’t been back on good terms for long, and Dave still wasn’t sure what would happen if he gave Rose any openings to grill him on anything too sensitive. 

Such as his relationship with Karkat.

He crossed one ankle over his knee and gave a lazy, dismissive shrug. “You don’t gotta lecture me on the bro code, Lalonde. Anyway, Karkat’s fine. You’ve seen the fucking bags under his eyes, he’s probably just cranky ‘cause he missed his nap. I’m just not out to bog a guy down over nothing.”

Rose sighed testily, something worried tugging at her impression. “How incredibly magnanimous of you.”

“That’s me, all kinds of considerate.”

Dave was thankful when Rose didn’t push the issue further. He made a point of reining in his curiosity about her and Kanaya in return. Both of them were being a little more cautious, hazy memories of crossed boundaries making things awkward. It was the sort of elephant in the room that they didn’t feel the need to talk about; if they ignored it, sooner or later it was bound to go away.

The movie they’d chosen for the night was the same troll Die Hard sequel he’d seen with Karkat a few days ago, since Rose hadn’t made it then. Unlike Karkat, Rose didn’t talk while she watched, opting instead to take the time to knit. It made for a boring rewatch. A couple of times, Dave’s attention drifted and he wondered if he’d be waking Karkat up if he pestered him. Both times he left his phone where it was. Something about the idea of checking in with his palebro under Rose’s prying eyes sent a flustered drop through his sternum. It was a weird feeling and Dave shoved it down. Karkat was probably still sleeping, anyway. Hopefully. The occasional sound of Rose’s knitting needles against each other reminded Dave of the way Karkat’s fangs clicked when he ate popcorn. 

It was distracting.

>==>

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 07:44--

TG: hey  
TG: you there  
CG: YES?  
CG: I’M BUSY, STRIDER. CAN IT WAIT?  
TG: i didnt wake you did i  
CG: I WASN’T SLEEPING.  
TG: ok  
TG: so  
TG: like  
TG: ok  
TG: trying to figure out how to ask this  
TG: i guess i should just say it  
TG: shit ok  
TG: you make it look so easy  
TG: you could teach a fuckin masterclass in like  
TG: awkward as hell conversations  
TG: professor vantas help  
TG: how do i talk to my bro without offending his delicate sensibilities  
TG: or getting all insensitive about his alien ways  
TG: or triggering his world famous explosive haterage  
CG: FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I SAID I WAS BUSY.  
CG: IF YOU’RE THAT DESPERATELY IN NEED SOMEONE TO STOMACH BLOCKS OF YOUR GARISH RED BABBLING THIS FUCKING INSTANT, FEEL FREE TO BOTHER LITERALLY ANYBODY THE FUCK ELSE ON THIS FUCKING ROCK.  
CG: UNLESS YOU HAVE SOME KIND OF FUCKING POINT?  
TG: ok ok  
TG: message received  
TG: getting to the fucking point already  
CG: WOULDN’T THAT BE A RARE FUCKING TREAT.  
TG: jesus  
TG: simmer down  
TG: you are extra fucking spicy today  
TG: three chilis for sure   
TG: my eyebrows are fucking singing off  
TG: definitely not what i ordered but i guess thats just how it goes sometimes  
CG: HAHA HEY YEAH, I KNOW! LET’S PICK ON THE ANGRY GUY SOME MORE FOR HOW ANGRY HE IS ALL THE TIME! HOW FUCKING ORIGINAL!  
CG: OH I KNOW! HOW ABOUT A CULINARY COMPARISON THIS TIME AROUND? I BET HE’LL NEVER FUCKING SEE THAT ONE COMING!  
CG: SURELY, YOU ARE A MASTER OF THE COMEDIC FUCKING ARTS.  
TG: whoa  
TG: was not trying to rag on you there man  
TG: like no bullshit you just seemed mad about something  
TG: wasnt out to make it worse  
CG: THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TRYING TO DO RIGHT NOW, DAVE?  
TG: uh  
TG: ask if you wanted to talk  
CG: …  
CG: I TOLD YOU AT THE BEGINNING OF THIS CONVERSATION THAT I WAS BUSY.  
TG: yea no  
TG: not what i meant  
TG: i meant like  
TG: do you need to talk about something  
CG: WHAT?  
TG: idk dude  
TG: somethings obviously up with you lately  
TG: like maybe youre not sleeping  
TG: or something  
TG: cant read your mind but obviously somethings burning you  
TG: im trying not to make anymore sick food comparisons but like  
TG: theres potential in maybe the mouthful of warheads direction  
TG: shit i just did it again  
TG: fuck ok  
TG: tldr  
TG: talking  
TG: is that a thing you want  
TG: y/n  
CG: …  
CG: ARE YOU TRYING TO ASK ME IF I NEED A FEELINGS JAM?  
CG: IS THAT SERIOUSLY WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?  
TG: if thats what you wanna call it  
TG: i mean  
TG: i know thats what its called  
TG: i pay attention to storytime bro  
TG: what do you take me for  
TG: were bros  
TG: all trollways and everything  
TG: and like  
TG: humanways too  
TG: im not gonna leave my bro hanging  
TG: thatd be hells of uncool  
TG: so yea man lets jam this out  
TG: right  
TG: seriously kar you just gonna leave me hanging or  
CG: RIGHT  
CG: YES  
CG: SORRY  
CG: I JUST  
CG: I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS.  
TG: dude what  
TG: im downright fucking offended  
TG: i got your back dude  
TG: whatevers going on  
TG: im totally down to do the sincere dialogue thing about it  
TG: unless im reading you all fucking wrong  
TG: in which case ill fuck off and we can pretend i never tried to get all up in your business  
TG: which is honestly not the coolest thing ive ever done  
TG: but i guess thats just me now  
TG: plowing into awkward convos like it just snowed and i need that paycheck  
TG: piling up the awkward by the side of the road  
TG: kids all playing in the gross melty shit  
CG: GODDAMNIT STOP  
CG: YOU’RE FUCKING RUINING IT.  
CG: JUST  
CG: YES  
TG: yes what  
CG: YES, I WANT TO TALK TO YOU, YOU DENSE SHIT.  
TG: oh  
TG: cool  
CG: I’M IN THE GARMENT SCOURING BLOCK RIGHT NOW.  
TG: what  
TG: oh  
TG: yea man ill be right there  
CG: I WAS GOING TO SAY WE COULD TALK AFTER I WAS DONE?  
TG: which makes way more sense  
TG: now that you say it  
TG: but you know what  
TG: fuck that  
TG: i got laundry  
CG: WHAT LAUNDRY? YOU WEAR THE SAME FUCKING ATTENTION-SEEKING GETUP EVERY DAY.  
TG: dude i have other clothes  
TG: theyre just always dirty cause they dont clean themselves  
TG: plus i got like two dozen towels cause i kept making new ones instead of washing them  
TG: and like  
TG: nobody else is there right  
TG: nobody fucking does laundry around here  
TG: swear to god our alchemiter lab is sixty percent hot topic sweatshop  
TG: edgy black t shirts for every little troll girl and boy   
CG: STRIDER.  
TG: yea if someone were there youd have said so by now  
TG: so like  
TG: we can talk there  
TG: unless thats like somehow scandalous for trolls  
TG: thou shalt not wash clothes with thine bro  
TG: written in like some millennium old book  
TG: of holy bro scripture  
TG: you guys got anything like that  
CG: FUCKER, MY CIVILIZATION IS LITERALLY THOUSANDS OF SWEEPS OLD AND TAKES SHITS MORE ADVANCED THAN ANYTHING YOUR PEOPLE COULD COME UP WITH IN A MILLENNIUM.  
CG: OF COURSE WE HAVE NO FUCKING SHORTAGE OF ANCIENT TOMES AND VOLUMES OF BRO CODE.  
TG: of course you do  
TG: anything about laundry  
TG: any weird troll taboo  
CG: NO THERE IS NO “WEIRD TROLL TABOO” ABOUT WASHING CLOTHES TOGETHER, YOU NOOKSNIFFER.  
CG: IT’S JUST KIND OF COMPLETELY FUCKING INAPPROPRIATE FOR A SERIOUS CONVERSATION.  
CG: NOT TO MENTION PRETTY FUCKING WEIRD.  
TG: yea i mean  
TG: what isnt  
TG: seems to me like anything that isnt pretty fucking weird died out in a meteor shower  
TG: so are you in or out  
TG: and like  
TG: preferably in  
TG: dont make me sit around wondering whats up while youre sorting your blacks from your greys or whatever   
TG: that could take days  
TG: my heart couldnt take that kind of strain bro  
TG: palebro  
TG: palest of bros  
TG: do i need to curl up in a pile of trash and get all piney like in palerom lit  
TG: is that like the password  
TG: oh wait  
TG: <>  
TG: cmon karbro  
TG: you wouldnt just leave your monorail hanging would you  
TG: you of all people man  
TG: for shame  
CG: *SHUT UP* HOLY FUCK  
CG: I CAN’T EVEN FUCKING TELL IF YOU’RE SERIOUS OR NOT, AND I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHICH IS WORSE.  
CG: DO YOU EVEN PAY ATTENTION TO THE MANURE THAT SPILLS FROM YOUR IGNORANCE TUNNEL?  
TG: yea honestly sometimes i try not to  
TG: kinda thinking i pushed it maybe too far up there  
TG: but im totally serious   
TG: serious like a third concussion  
TG: doctors trying to reassure me but his eyes say im fucked  
TG: like dont make me say ive been worried sick about you like im your mom and this is cartoon network  
TG: but this is the most motivated ive been to do laundry in like forever  
TG: lets just do it already  
TG: it being a totally unironic chat about the innermost feelings of one karkat vantas  
CG: …  
CG: OKAY.  
CG: FUCK IT.  
CG: FINE. WE’LL DO THIS YOUR WAY.  
TG: yes  
TG: were doin it bro  
TG: were making it happen  
CG: UGH  
CG: DON’T MAKE ME REGRET THIS.  
CG: I’LL MEET YOU HERE.

\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 07:59--

>Karkat: Grapple with the consequences of insomnia.

The garment scouring block was tucked in its own corner of the central compound on the meteor. It was a small, dimly lit concrete box of a block, featuring a transportalizer and a vent and no other exits. Two garment scouring machines and two rotating heat drums stood along the wall, bulky appliances in a neutral color that was hard to identify in the light. A folding table next to the sink in the back corner was a recent addition of Karkat’s, but beyond that the space was bare. Dave had been right that it wasn’t used very often. Until a few perigees ago, laundry hadn’t featured anywhere on anybody’s list of priorities. Now that there was all the time in the world, Karkat, lacking in any self-cleaning pajamas, had made it a habit to clean every part of his limited wardrobe regularly. 

By the time the transportalizer hummed and Dave arrived, Karkat had already moved his modest load of laundry from scourer to heat drum. This meant that he was mercifully out of the way as Dave, with infuriating nonchalance, muttered to himself incoherently (“...troll washing machines: are they the same as human ones? details at eleven…”) while unceremoniously dumping a mess of mostly off-white fabric into the scouring machine nearest the wall. Once the scour cycle was started, Dave took his hand off the lid of the appliance, took a couple of steps so he could lean against the scourer that wasn’t running at the time. His face was as hard to read as ever. Moments ticked by, small talk and banter were exchanged, and the anxiety rippling through Karkat’s thorax grew into a steady and silent alarm. 

“Did you… spend a lot of time in the sun on Earth?” Karkat found himself asking, feeling increasingly stupid about the question as he got it out of his mouth.

Dave was looking at him sort of funny. “What? No. Dude. I’m from Texas and I fucking look like this.” He held out his pale, practically translucent arms as if to make some kind of point.

“I have no idea what a Texas is or what it has to do with your sun,” Karkat deadpanned, familiar with this song and dance. “Or what’s wrong with your arms, besides the usual.”

“Okay, I’ve definitely told you before, but Texas is like the brightest, hottest, most bullshittingly sun-baked state in the union. And I am a pasty albino motherfucker who burns like a jumbo bagel jammed in an old-fashioned toaster with the narrow-ass slots. Seriously, my only two settings are basically raw bacon and molting snakeskin.” Dave said it like it was some kind of joke, which didn’t leave Karkat with much help in the way of interpreting the truth from the bullshit. It was a common problem with Dave.

“I thought sunlight was good for humans?” Karkat asked for clarification, deciding to ignore basically the entire second half of Dave’s statement. One of the words had stood out, but all Karkat knew about it was that it was some sort of mutation that affected his eyes. Maybe his mutation had other effects Dave hadn’t mentioned? “Or is it… different for you?” Karkat hazarded, not entirely sure how he was supposed to talk about the “albino” thing.

“I guess? Like, lots of people burn easy. It’s just really fucking bad in my case. I mean, not like it was ever a big deal or anything. Of all the shit that could kill me now, I’m pretty sure skin cancer isn’t on the list anymore.” Dave said, sounding sort of confused at the question. It made Karkat wonder why he had asked, silently cursing Kanaya for having brought it up. “Is this seriously what you wanted to talk about? No offense, but I’ve been kind of bracing for impact with heavier shit.”

“Yeah. No. It’s just something Kanaya said that got in my head, I guess.”

“The sunlight thing or the heavier shit?”

“I don’t know. Maybe both.” 

The air in the block was warm like a staticy snuggleplane. Karkat failed to fight back a yawn, not even bothering to cover his mouth.

“Dude, when was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?”

Karkat snorted. “At least five sweeps.” He paused, shifted his weight against the wall he was leaning back on. “But the last time I slept was maybe… five days ago? Longer? We’re not all time gods, we can’t all keep perfect track of the days on a fucking meteor with no star to orbit around.”

“Five days? So five actual days since you saw a wink, much less forty?”

“For once, can you please spare me the human references? Sleep and I don’t get along. It’s old fucking news.”

Dave was frowning. “Okay, this is gonna be a dumb question, but trolls are supposed to sleep every night, right? Like, every single night?”

“Dave, please.”

Dave just stared him down, and then he raised one eyebrow.

“Yes of fucking course trolls are supposed to sleep every day,” Karkat made a point of emphasizing. “That doesn’t mean I’ll fucking die if I skip a few fucking days. I mean, shit, this isn’t nearly the longest I’ve gone without sleep. It’s just a stupid personal issue, and I’ll get the fuck over it. I always fucking do. We seriously do not need to fucking talk about it.”

“Okay, but like, obviously you wanted to talk about something, and not sleeping for a week straight sounds like a pretty big fucking deal.”

Karkat shifted his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly under Dave’s expectant gaze. He had no idea what to even think at this point. He’d been spending so much time worrying that he was fucking up yet another pale relationship with yet another guy who just didn’t feel the same way. He was still worried about that. There was Dave, caring about Karkat’s health, making himself available because he noticed that Karkat needed him, and Karkat still couldn’t stop worrying. It was one thing to understand how a moirallegiance is supposed to feel, and it was another to make Dave understand it. It was yet another to be sure for himself that Dave understood. Kanaya had been absolutely fucking right. 

“Are you… even pale for me?” The words were out of Karkat’s mouth before he knew he needed to say them. They came out all quiet and contemplative, unbearably serious, and addressed to the inside of his rigid fabric receptacle. 

“Um. What?” There it was, there was that muted bewildered tone, the put-off note to it, that told Karkat all he needed to know. If the answer were a yes, he would have just said yes. Karkat felt a drop in his upper thorax, a stinging at his eyes. 

“Kanaya was totally right,” Karkat heard himself say before he could stop. He felt dizzy. He sounded miserable. “What was I even fucking thinking? You’re not a troll, how could you possibly ever get it? You don’t understand moirallegiance, not actually, and even if I tell you how it’s supposed to work, you still don’t get it and--”

“Whoa, what did I do?”

“--and I just want this to work. Fuck. I’m embarrassingly pale for you and it’s humiliating and I just…” I just want you to feel the same way. “...want this to work.”

Karkat wasn’t even looking Dave in the eye. He was pressed back against the wall and his arms were clenched around him, his chin tucked like he though Dave would go for his throat. But in his periphery, he could see the movement of Dave’s cape as he straightened against the appliance in surprise. He could identify the beat of silence that followed as bewildered.

“Okay, cards on the table, I’m pretty fucking confused right now,” Dave blurted when he recovered, “I kind of thought I was doing it right? Talking about shit that’s bothering you? Isn’t that how this whole pale thing works? Did I do the cutesy diamond symbol wrong when I asked you on this feels date?”

It was so frustrating, so annoying how he actually did understand, partway. Sure, they were supposed to talk. But they were supposed to be in a pile, Dave’s hand on Karkat’s face, attentive and patient as Karkat slowly opened up to him. They were supposed to be comfortable with each other, with each other’s feelings and with the platonic intimacy. They were supposed to… make sense. Like in all the novels Karkat had read. Like if they were both trolls.

“Aren’t you just fucking humoring me?” Karkat spat out, surprised by the harshness of his own voice. “I mean, I basically fucking forced you into this. I showed up at your block and yelled at you until you agreed to be my moirail, like a huge fucking tool. Humans don’t even have pale feelings! You have…” You have Rose, he almost said, surprising himself. “You have ‘family’ and human friendship and all kinds of bizarre social norms that I am absolutely never ever going to fucking get. I just fucking decided for you that you needed to deal with your shit like a troll, because I was being unforgivably fucking selfish. My quadrants were empty and I had just lost Gamzee and you… I just shoved you in my pale quadrant even though it was obvious as all fuck that you were never going to be as into it as I was.”

He ended his rant by leaning back with a thump into the wall, glaring miserably at the running dryer with all of his things in it as he slid down to the cold concrete. It was an uncomfortable seat, but it felt appropriate for how he felt, exhausted and useless and ashamed. “This was such a fucking mistake,” he heard himself utter, not even entirely sure what he meant anymore.

“That’s, uh, one hell of a break-up line you got there, man,” Dave replied with an affected levity to his voice that just made him sound transparently at a loss. 

“Shit, no, that’s not what this is,” Karkat insisted, sounding so tired it surprised him. He hesitated, then he dropped his head onto his arms in front of him. “Fuck. I don’t know. Maybe it should be. I don’t know what I’m fucking doing, and you don’t need a moirail who can’t understand your whole human needs thing.”

“Oh. Shit.” 

Karkat didn’t look at him, staring miserably down into his lap. He tried to ignore Dave’s eyes on him, the cold sinking in his digestion bladder, the familiar taste of instant regret in his mouth. But he’d said it, and he’d felt it, and he couldn’t just take it back. He clenched the prongs on both hands into fists in a desperate bid to keep his limbs from trembling.

A few feet away, Karkat heard Dave suck in a breath and hold it. When he let it back out, it came out in a stream of urgent muttering. Karkat was pretty sure he could pick out “shit, karkat’s fuckin’ broken, what am i supposed to--,” but then the rinse cycle started in earnest and swallowed the rest of what he way saying until he addressed Karkat in earnest.

“Alright, as your monorail, are you sure I can’t get you to take a dip in the green stuff and count some alien sheep or like baabeasts or whatever? Y’know, before you bro-break-up with me ‘cause you’re having a sleep deprivation crazy? Because this is sounding a lot like we’re heading in that direction,” Dave sounded so casual, too casual. It was an obvious front, even for Dave. It grated on Karkat’s nerves. How the fuck was he supposed to chill out? Was he really just supposed to float around in a pod with that nauseatingly familiar smell, trying and failing to sleep?

Karkat felt his ears burning with embarrassment, wanting to hide away from this humiliating conversation he’d brought up himself for some horrible reason. He grit his teeth against the weight of the feeling. “No, you cannot fucking make me get into that wretched fucking thing. And--and maybe I’d have an easier time trusting your fucking intentions if you’d say the fucking word,” he ground out, hating that he had to say it. “Seriously, Dave, do you even remotely give a shit? If you just wanted to do the human friendship thing, you know you could have just fucking told me so from the fucking start? Do you even get the fucking difference? Do you even know what pale feelings feel like?” He raised his head and looked at Dave, aimed for eye contact past the fucking defensive barriers on his face. “You’re my moirail and you can’t even say the fucking word.”

Dave almost looked chastised, not that it was easy to tell with him. Were his cheeks pink? It was hard to get used to talking to someone with blood just like Karkat’s, bright candy-red, but behind such translucent skin that anyone could tell his blood color just by looking at him. What a fucking nightmare. For a few seconds, there was just silence and the tumble of two appliances and the awkwardness of Karkat having just tore into Dave for, in hindsight, basically nothing.

Karkat looked away. He heard Dave’s footsteps, and for a horrible moment he thought he’d done it, he’d driven away another fucking moirail, he’d basically done it on purpose holy fuck--and Dave was sitting down next to him. The ridiculously impractical cape that he was fond of wearing fanned out over Karkat’s lap as Dave crossed to sit to his left. Some traitorous part of him opened his hand and grabbed the red fabric to hold it in place, the only real item in an otherwise imaginary pile. Thankfully, Dave didn’t comment on it. 

“Not gonna lie, this whole meltdown thing you’re doing is throwing me all loopways. I mean, I figured there was gonna be a meltdown, that’s pretty much your whole thing. You practically hold the patent on the most explosive meltdown over the smallest bullshit. Shit has fuckin’ military applications. And I don’t know what kinds of shit I was expecting, but I definitely did not expect you to spiral out about our broship at me. But okay, I did fucking show up expecting something, and I guess that’s the something. That’s what we’re doing today. That’s where we’re at.” Dave paused in what Karkat was gathering was going to be a stream-of-consciousness babble until he found his way to a point. Karkat didn’t dare let himself say another word. He had his knees drawn up to his chest and his shoulder just slightly bumping up against Dave’s, and from this distance he could smell the subtle and distantly familiar scent of Dave’s skin. Despite himself, on an instinctual level, he felt safe. It was maybe the only thing keeping him from helplessly weeping at his own stupidity. His body was trying to reassure him that his shame and vulnerability had space to exist unmolested in the presence of his moirail.

Fuck he was so fucking pale for Dave it hurt.

Dave was still talking. “I was trying to be cool about it, but you had me actually fucking worried, ‘cause it was super fucking obvious something was wrong. You’re basically always mad at everything, but you’re usually not this much of an actual downer. But like, I don’t get troll shit, so I figured you had it under control. But then it turns out what was wrong was some wicked insomnia with a side of me not being troll enough to be bros with you? Which, shit, has gotta be like the most insecure fucking bullshit I ever heard. No offense, man. I’ll give you a pass on it ‘cause you haven’t slept in like a week, but insecurity is fucking ugly on you. I’m honestly kind of offended. It’s not like I never think about it, y’know. You being my pale guy. I’m not just pretending we’re not, y’know.” There was just enough of a pause that Karkat opened his mouth to fill in the word, but then Dave continued, “Moirails. Yeah, surprise, I do know the fucking word. Shit, you know I know it, it’s not like I’ve never said it. I was just being hilarious, doing the whole dumb-human-can’t-pronounce-alien-words bit, but I’m kinda getting the message that maybe I might’ve misjudged my audience.”

“It’s not a fucking joke to me,” Karkat grumbled into the cape, finally breaking his silence, burning with shame and thoroughly deflated. “And I’m sorry. I freak the fuck out over nothing. Like you said that’s basically my fucking thing and it’s stupid and I didn’t. I didn’t mean it.”

Karkat heard Dave let out a breath beside him. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Dave said quietly. He brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, eyes seemingly trained on the transportalizer across the room. Karkat halfway expected him to abscond. “Why haven’t you been sleeping, man?”

“No reason,” Karkat grunted in response.

“Yeah, that’s not good enough right now. The bags under your eyes would be considered oversized by any major airline. They’d slap that sucker on a scale and you better be prepared to pay for every extra pound of shit. You, my friend, are travelling around with some heavy fucking baggage.”

“How are you just fucking talking about my sleep habits right now? It’s the very fucking definition of a personal problem. It’s not like anyone can fucking help. It’s none of your fucking business.” Karkat tightened his arms around himself, held Dave’s cape tight in his hand and pulling it taught from Dave’s collar. He knew as he said them that his words were far from true, and he wasn’t even sure why he was holding anything in at this point. 

“Tough shit,” Dave replied easily. “So tell me. What’s wrong? Your goo cocoon spring a leak? Your goocoon?”

“My recuperacoon is fine,” Karkat shot back testily, unconsciously baring fangs in annoyance, mostly with himself for being so fucking difficult. “I just don’t want anything the fuck to do with it at the moment, okay?” Karkat felt his voice waver and he swallowed, hard. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

The floor was cold and dusty under them, the rumble of the garment scouring drum a constant rush in Karkat’s ears. Dave was a conspicuous source of warmth beside him that gave him conflicting instincts. He wanted to let himself curl up close; he was itching to abscond before Dave inevitably did. The thought of explaining his whole humiliating problem with the stench of sopor, the day terrors, all of it--it made his digestion bladder turn. 

“I’m telling you, you can’t help. Just drop it, okay? I just can’t fucking sleep, and I have to wait until my stupid, useless fucking body lets me sleep again. Which it will, sooner or fucking later, if it wants to not die,” he spat out spitefully, more at himself than to Dave.

Dave looked at him with this strange, pinched look. “You haven’t been having anymore late-night self-deprecating time travel chats with yourself, have you?”

Karkat shot him an incredulous glare, offended. “Seriously, Strider? What the fuck do you take me for? I gave you my fucking word.” He wasn’t so low as to break a promise to his moirail, even if Dave hadn’t really been his moirail at the time.

Dave shrugged, staring impassively back at him. “Had to check. It’s not like you’ve been telling me you’re up at all fucking hours, having yourself a pity party for one.” He paused. “Does that still make sense or is that just what trolls call jerking off?” That earned him a gentle but firm headbutt that very nearly included contact with a nubby but solid horn. Dave rubbed his head, but he was fighting a smile. “Ow.” 

“For fuck’s sake, shut up. Just… can we please just finish our laundry and leave this humiliating failure of a feelings jam with some amount of dignity intact?”

Dave seemed to consider this, hugging one knee to his chest in an idle stretch. “You know you can text me if you can’t sleep. Impromptu movie night, something like that.”

“But that’s when you’re sleeping, you moron. I’m going to wake you up in the middle of the day just because I have a tortured think pan full of nauseatingly traumatic fucking images that tend to get thrown at me whether I’m dreaming in a bubble or fucking not. It’s just not fucking worth your time.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re hearing what you sound like when you say shit like that. I’m your fucking moirail, alright? You got me using troll words and everything, the least you can do is shut up and listen when I tell you to fucking talk to me when you’re having a shitty night. Day. Whichever.”

Dave emphasized his last sentence by rocking sideways gently, nudging Karkat with his shoulder in an awkward gesture somewhere between playful and concerned. He’d said it again. In a sentence, even. He was Karkat’s moirail, he was saying so himself, he cared. The warmth coming off of him was making Karkat wish they were in a pile, that Dave would calm him down with an arm around him instead of with words. It was a nice thought, but Karkat knew they weren’t there yet. Still, they were so close. Karkat gently leaned into Dave, nudging his weight against Dave’s arm until it shifted to let him settle into Dave’s side.

“Okay. Fine,” Karkat mumbled into Dave’s shoulder, embarrassed. “You’re right.”

Seconds ticked by, at once quiet and overwhelmingly noisy in the echo chamber of the laundry block. Karkat felt Dave’s arm move and started, suddenly uncertain about Dave’s comfort level with this kind of contact. Then Dave’s hand, cool where it had been touching the floor, found Karkat’s shoulder and gently, almost imperceptibly, pulled him closer. A flood of something warm and validating rushed through Karkat’s throat and thorax, his anxieties bobbing like buoys in an ocean of pale affection and trust. He tried not to move, scared that Dave might realize what he’s done, might take it all back and leave Karkat bereft. 

They both jumped a few minutes later when the wet scourer made a loud buzz, indicating the end of its cycle. 

“That’s my cue,” Dave said, voice perhaps a little choked, pulling himself away from Karkat and off the floor. Sadly but inevitably, his cape went with him, leaving Karkat cold. 

Suddenly his spot on the floor, a safe and reasonable choice, seemed conspicuously pathetic. The warm pale energy he’d felt was crushed, deflated with the moment. He felt his ears burn at how shamelessly he’d curled up against Dave, how desperate he was for pale contact. There was no way Dave would get that close to him again. Why should he? Why would he want to stick around someone as embarrassingly broken as Karkat any longer than he had to? Now that he saw what he was in for, how honestly bad Karkat was at all this, there was no way Dave actually wanted this.

Self-loathing distracted Karkat and minutes had passed before he realized that Dave was talking as he finished transferring towels from scourer to heating drum. 

“If you’re trying to talk to me, I can’t hear you.”

“Huh?” Dave closed the dryer and looked at him. “Oh, I was just thinking out loud about how you and Rose somehow managed to get the same stick up your asses. It’s weird you aren’t better friends, but like, thank fucking god.”

“What? The fuck?”

This time, when Dave sat down, he smirked and held his cape out intentionally for Karkat to drape over himself. Karkat took it with a low “shut up” that Dave chuckled at. “It’s cool, man. My cape is irresistible. Can’t fight it. Just don’t fucking fall asleep, there’s like a zero percent chance that you’re not gonna drool on me.” Dave adjusted his posture casually, wordlessly encouraging Karkat to lean against him again. Karkat’s thinkpan went entirely blank, no response prepared for this utterly unexpected turn. Cautiously, bloodpusher pumping, Karkat obliged, adjusting until he could lean his head back against Dave’s shoulder.

“Weren’t you saying something?” Karkat grumbled defensively, drawing his knees in under the cape shamelessly. 

Dave hmmed. “Rose said some shit about how she felt ‘less human’ or whatever. ‘Cause of the whole ectobiology thing, and also probably ‘cause we’re outnumbered by trolls, picking up troll words, stuff like that. That and I’m pretty sure she has a special notebook covered in wizard stickers where she writes down all her nosy questions about our whole moirail thing and she’s just chomping at the bit to whip it out.”

Karkat scowled, forgetting the context of the conversation for a moment. “Are you fucking serious? Doesn’t she fucking know better than the shove her nose in other people’s fucking relationships? That’s so fucking inappropriate, I should fucking--”

“Whoa! No fucking way are you telling her we were talking about her! I fucking mean it. She’s not shoving anything anywhere, man, relax.”

Hesitantly, realizing he’d been sitting up, Karkat settled back down. “...Is this actually going somewhere?”

Dave’s arm--the one that wasn’t between them--was up and gesturing as he spoke. “It’s going all kinds of wheres. I was saying how Rose is all hung up on all the human we aren’t--or like, she was once when we were both drunk, I’m not sure where we actually landed on that--and meanwhile you’ve been having this grand-scale conniption about how I’m too human to get the friendsquare of your foursquare. I just watched you have an honest-to-god breakdown in the name of how much I don’t get the intricacies of being troll bros. And okay, yeah, obviously there’s shit I don’t get. But honestly it looks to me like some troll shit seems like it’s just universal shit dressed up in funny words with funky symbols on it.”

Karkat shook his head, creating static between his hair and Dave’s shirt. “Just don’t. You don’t need to pretend to fucking understand. If humans had pale relationships, you would have fucking said so by now, or Rose might have filled me in, or it would have been made explicit in one of your planet’s sorry excuses for films.”

“Yeah, sorry to burst your bubble, but we’re not exactly the end-all be-all experts on Earth shit. I know you probably don’t believe me, but trolls don’t have a fucking monopoly on being confusing as shit. Being a human is pretty fucked up, and nobody hands you a fucking manual.”

Karkat thought about that and considered a question for a moment before asking it. “Kanaya and I thought maybe your whole ‘family’ situation was your overcomplicated equivalent of a pale quadrant.”

It was a relief when Karkat heard Dave laugh a restrained, surprised laugh. It seemed like the possibility hadn’t occurred to him. “Dude, you have got to stop listening to Kanaya about this stuff. Though, like, honestly?” He seemed thoughtful. “I guess why not? It’s not a sex quadrant or anything. Not that I want Rose getting that close to my fucking face, no thank you. That’s still pretty squicky.”

Dave paused, looking like he was deciding whether or not to say something. Karkat recognized the subtle shift in energy, had learned to read Dave’s various moods and gestures. He waited for Dave to start up again.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we’ve kind of been spending a fuckton of time together doing, like, mind-numbingly stupid shit. It’s like time is boondollars and we could buy anything we want, only all the shops are boarded up. Then a fuckin’ Michael’s comes to town, and we’re just like, ‘where else are we gonna spend these useless things, they’re starting to fuckin’ pile up’ so we end up balls-deep in pre-K classroom materials. Like, I could just keep my shitty game money to myself, y’know? And instead I’m schlepping chalk to Can Town twice a week so we keep having an excuse to hang out.” Karkat turned his head to look at Dave. From this angle, he could sort of see Dave’s eyes widen under his shades. “I mean--shit. Obviously the chalk is for the Mayor, and nobody needs an excuse to hang out with the Mayor, he’s just always down for hangouts with whoever. Dude’s just the best like that. You get it.”

“Is there supposed to be a point here, Dave?”

“I’m saying we’ve been hanging out a lot, like basically nonstop. Which isn’t exactly normal shit for me. I was a stone cold lone wolf back on Earth.”

“You? Seriously? I’ve been developing a theory that you’d completely shrivel up and die if we left you alone without anyone to listen to your bullshit for too long.”

“Hey, fuck you, I’m doing my level best to eschew my typical Striderian powerhouse of a ironic wit. The least you could do is quit the nookchafing commentary and show some appreciation.”

Despite himself, Karkat snorted a fond, mocking laugh. “Motherfucker, do you even know what a nook is?”

“One, shut the fuck up, context clues are a thing I am perfectly fucking capable of navigating. And letter B, shut the fuck up, because I was kind of on a roll and I gotta get this shit out before midnight or I’ll turn into a fucking pumpkin and all these rare and delectable morsels of Strider sincerity will go to fucking waste.”

Rolling his eyes at how few of those words actually made sense, Karkat managed to find enough restraint to keep from snarking back.

“I’m saying I never really got to hang out with anyone like, in person, especially practically every fucking day like we do. For a dude who never finds his chill, you’re actually pretty chill to be around? Y’know, on a less shitty day. Today you’re kind of a fucking mess, but like, that totally happens to the best of us. It actually feels kind of, sort of like I, uh, imagined it would if John and I could ever, y’know, hang out IRLways.”

“So you agreed to be in a quadrant with me because you missed your best human friend,” Karkat interpreted blandly.

“No, dude, come on. Not the message I was going for. I’m saying maybe just ‘cause you slap a fancy name and a diamond symbol on, that doesn’t make it a trolls-only kind of thing? You seem like you think there’s this whole set of feelings I can’t ever understand or whatever, but what if you’re just way overthinking it like you do literally everything else? 

“Maybe on Earth, nobody’s goin’ around asking their bro on a feelings date--” (“feelings jam,” Karkat supplied testily) “--or whatever. That’s definitely a weird troll thing. But maybe like, if a guy is mostly just chilling by himself, total lone wolf, developing his ironic style all artistic-like online, then having a dude to rap at and chat about life and whatever with is maybe totally a thing that could’ve happened. Maybe you didn’t call it pale, or didn’t call it anything, but it was definitely different from how you felt about your other friends, and maybe you thought about the guy a lot and maybe even straight-up cared about him all super sincere-like, even if mostly you just kind of joked about how gay that kind of thing was. But maybe it turns out it’s not gay, like not really, and if you were a troll that kind of thing would even be completely fucking normal.”

Karkat watched him with widening eyes, parts of a puzzle slotting together in his thinkpan until he understood what Dave was trying to get at. He watched Dave glance down at him as he talked, saw him look away immediately, embarrassed. It dawned on Karkat that Dave had actually given this some actual thought. Had given moirallegiance some actual thought. 

“And maybe,” Dave continued, “if you end up on a meteor with a dude, building a town for a certain adorable Mayor together, maybe that’s another way to get a rock-solid broship started. And yeah, it’s super fucking weird, you might end up doing this awkward laundry room cuddle thing, but that’s cool--I mean, no, it’s actually pretty fucking warm in here, but if I’m being less literal, we’re downright fucking frosty.” He finished talking and cleared his throat awkwardly. 

Karkat’s bloodpusher was pounding in his throat and he kept having to swallow. He could practically hear the background music playing from some particularly sordid old romance film--not a romcom, a pure and serious romance. He couldn’t help but feel some secondhand embarrassment at how candid his insecure bullshit had forced Dave to be. Whether whatever Dave was describing was really the same was the pale rush filling Karkat’s thorax or not, this felt so much like the reassurance he’d been looking for.

“Yes, okay,” Karkat breathed, not able to make eye contact. “I get the picture, okay? Sorry I said anything, I was being a fucking bulgewipe. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. You can stop.”

Dave’s laundry started its main drying cycle in earnest as Karkat was talking, and after a brief pause he just kept speaking as if Karkat hadn’t said anything. Whether Dave actually hadn’t heard him over the dry woosh and rattle of the appliance or he was just ignoring him, Karkat wasn’t sure. 

“And, like, if I’m really just letting the dam burst on this torrent of personal shenanigans, there’s this whole can of worms I could open--wait. Do you get that one, or is a can of worms just a pantry staple where you’re from? Shit, do we have cans of worms in the mealblock--ow,” Dave deadpanned the last part in reaction to an elbow to the ribs that was more nudge than strike. “You’re fuckin’ pointy, you know that?”

“If you insist on talking, just get on with it before I abandon my laundry along with this conversation along with the hefty chunk of my dignity it cost me to be part of it.”

For a moment Karkat worried that he’d been too harsh, but when Dave let out a breathy chuckle it felt refreshingly normal. There was a pause as Dave adjusted to bring both of his hands into his lap and Karkat was forced to sit up. They remained pressed together side against side under Dave’s cape, almost too warm for comfort.

“Honestly, the thing that freaked me out the most at first was the whole thing where it’s apparently your job to keep me from going full on axe crazy at people. But you already stopped me from drunkenly testing Rose’s immortality once.” He frowned. “Dude, Rose and I don’t really talk about it ‘cause everything worked out fine, but that situation was seriously fucked up. Then you walk in and it’s like--bam, in my head I’m back in Can Town and everything’s chill and, oh shit, what’s this sword even doing here?” He paused. “They really fucking undersell how much alcohol it takes to black out. Wouldn’t mind remembering less of that whole misadventure. Point is, if you hadn’t been there, or if it’d been someone else going for my sword hand or whatever, I don’t know what would have happened.” 

Karkat’s eyes widened gradually as Dave spoke, genuinely touched.

Dave continued, but his voice was lower, as though he wasn’t talking to Karkat. “Which is honestly kind of fucking terrifying, holy shit? What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Karkat jumped in, loud enough this time. “That actually sounds, uh. Pretty normal.” 

“Yeah? How do you fucking figure?”

Karkat just stared at Dave for a moment, brow set in an uncomfortable line. Was he actually going to make him spell it out for him? It was pale as fuck. If he’d been talking about anyone else, Karkat would have identified it for him immediately. But Karkat didn’t want to say it. He was already painfully aware of how much he’d been leading in their relationship up to this point. He didn’t want to dictate Dave’s feelings for him, too.

Dave was staring at him impassively, glasses completely opaque in this light. If it weren’t for the pink of Dave’s ears, his most obvious tell when he was truly flustered, Karkat would almost believe that he was as cool on the inside as he was trying to play it off on the outside. But he knew Dave better by now, and Karkat knew by the way he was sitting too still, like a taut string, that Dave was nervous as all fuck.

“I’m just fucking saying, you solve enough problems with your strife specibus, sometimes you start trying to solve all of them like that,” Karkat said eventually. “That’s just normal. That’s why moirallegiance is so important to begin with. Some trolls need moirails more than other trolls, but we all benefit from having someone to calm us down in fucked up situations. That’s literally the entire fucking point of this relationship. That’s... how this is supposed to work.” He let his voice soften, not quite able to keep the sentimentality out of his words, not quite sure why he would try.

Then Dave groaned and put his head in his hands. “Great. I’m normal by a troll’s standards. Fuck, Rose was totally right…”

Right. That was why. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Shit. Okay, some version of that that wasn’t offensive. You know what I mean, man.”

Karkat didn’t know what that meant. He was so fucking tired. This was starting to make sense, his moirail wasn’t just humoring him, there was no big crisis--but Dave was always capable of spouting some fresh hoofbeast shit. “Well excuse me for being a fucking troll! And excuse me, but I’m not actually a complete idiot. I am fucking constantly aware of our unforgettably obvious xenological differences. Didn’t you literally just get done fucking talking about how some ‘troll’ things are maybe more fucking universal than previously fucking assumed, nookmunch?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Didn’t you tell me yourself that your human lusus had you strife-training daily? You trained and hacked and slashed your way here, and you’re fucking confused why you keep pulling your shitty broken swords out of your nook?” Karkat frowned and looked away, a little embarrassed. “I’ve seen you fight in your session. I strifed with my lusus pretty much every day, and if I’m being honest, I’m nowhere fucking near that good. Do you know what I’d give for your fucking combat instincts? Of course someone like you is going to need a moirail when your thinkpan starts getting screwy. That happens to a lot of... naturally gifted fighters. Which, goddamnit, you obviously are, so. Yeah. That all seems pretty fucking normal.”

Karka felt Dave tense and shift next to him as he finished speaking, and as soon as Karkat was done Dave was reading to cut in. “Dude, no. Absolutely fucking not. I mean, I get why that’s a moirail thing, you’ve only been lecturing me about pale shit for months, but basically all the rest of that is red flag city. Maybe that’s normal for trolls, but that is not normal for humans.”

“What’s not fucking normal?”

Karkat looked at Dave, waiting for an answer. Dave was staring at him with a faintly surprised expression, brow pinching together slowly and helplessly. Then Dave looked away, looking a little pained. He took a breath, steadied himself. He muttered something to himself and it started to dawn on Karkat that he really, truly, did not understand what he had been talking about. 

“Dave, I can’t hear you.”

“Pretty much all of it, dude,” Dave repeated at a normal volume, and Karkat instantly regretted whatever he had done to make him sound so bitter. “Kids aren’t supposed to have fucking combat instincts.”

“...Oh.”

The room was filled for a long time with nothing but the muffled tumbling of the rotating heat drum. Dave looked far away, and Karkat felt shame welling up within him at the knowledge that he’d pushed him there. Just once, he would have liked to be able to just… dial it back. For once. For a fucking change. He watched Dave lose himself in thought, his face tensing the way it did sometimes when he forgot he wasn’t alone. Karkat wished he had the context he needed to fully appreciate what Dave was telling him. Sure, human movies made it clear that there was a lot less vigilance and self-defense required of humans than of trolls, but no combat training? Even just for survival? The way Dave said it, Karkat believed him. The way Dave said it, Karkat could tell there was a lot there that he maybe hadn’t meant to start unpacking just then.

Hesitantly at first, Karkat pulled himself forward, peeling his upper back from the wall. Dave responded to the movement, head jerking over to look at him, face guarded. Before he could second-guess himself, Karkat reached up and papped Dave gently on the cheek. Dave’s eyebrows went up, utterly disarmed by the gesture, so Karkat repeated it for good measure. 

“Shhh,” Karkat muttered, his hand lingering on Dave’s head, looking right into Dave’s shades from what should have been too close for comfort. Dave sort of made a face, looked a little awkward, but he didn’t take any steps to move away.

“Dude, didn’t you get the picture? I’m not a troll, you don’t gotta shoosh me when I’m being lame,” Dave protested, his voice just a little too shaky to be flippant. 

Karkat smiled a tired, pitying smile and papped him again. “Shoosh.”

>==>

PROGRESS TO NEW SESSION: 22.5%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Wertiyurae for looking this over before I released it into the wild!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who comments/kudoses/gives whatever form of feedback!
> 
> Next chapter is in the works.


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